


Girl Most Likely

by LizBee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mentor/Protégé, fucked-up people doing their best, shameless Snape redemption, when your friends seem to be moving on without you, widower!Harry, written pre-OotP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-07-19
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: Fifteen years after he defeated Voldemort, Harry Potter is an increasingly disillusioned Auror, a distinctly un-merry widower, and an extremely reluctant messiah.In the line of duty, he encounters Severus Snape's ugly, unlovable daughter.  Lilith Snape could prove the embodiment – and possible resolution – of more than one multi-generational family feud, provided that her relatives don't succeed in murdering her before her next birthday.Of course, being brutally murdered – or worse – will be nothing compared with what her father will do when he finds out that Harry Potter has appointed himself her personal white knight and saviour.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written between 2003 and ... hmm, 2005? In the Long Summer between _Goblet of Fire_ and _Order of the Phoenix_. A time when original characters reigned in fandom, and no one worried too much about the implications about writing about attraction between a grown man and a teenage girl. (Provided you warned properly. We weren't _monsters_.) 
> 
> (Some people were monsters, but I was a Choose to Warn person from pretty early on.)
> 
> What I'm saying is, it was a product of its time, and I'd probably do things differently now. But I set out to write a noir-ish story about fucked-up people doing their best. 
> 
> Anyway, because this was written pre-OotP, a _lot_ of things about it have been completely destroyed by canon. I mean, I even had to guess at Mrs Lestrange's name and family background. (I've tagged her as Bellatrix, but back in 2003 I named her Eugenia, because it sounds like "eugenics".) Apologies to any canon!Bella fans who clicked.) 
> 
> Finally, thanks to beta_reader, who unearthed this on the Wayback Machine, reminded me on Tumblr that it existed, and then recced it on a Reddit fic comm, thus reminding me (again) that it exists and should be on AO3.
> 
> Other warnings: 
> 
> \- I didn't tag for rape/non-con because they don't actually happen in this fic, but it does form part of the history  
> \- OCs everywhere  
> \- violence, including allusions to torture  
> \- I had to struggle to resist the temptation to just rewrite big chunks

Two men, talking over a cup of tea:

"Is it enough, do you think?"

"It'll have to be. Anything more, and it would be too obvious."

"From what I've heard, you'd have to wear green and silver snakeskin and carry a sign saying, _I love the Dark Lord_ before he'd notice anything." The first man snorted with laughter. "Gryffindors."

"You underestimate him. That's a mistake."

"He's one man."

"He's the most powerful wizard of our age." The second man chuckled. "But, yes, one man. It's enough."

*** 

Harry saw the girl in the shadows: a thin, cloaked figure, retreating into the darkness as the Aurors made their way down Knockturn Alley. He caught a glimpse of black eyes in a pale face, and felt a flicker of recognition. He knew this girl, or at least, he knew who she was. And what she was. 

Her gaze had a familiar focus that made Harry's neck prickle, as if she could see through their Invisibility Cloaks.

He'd often wondered the same thing about her father, he recalled.

Somehow, the denizens of the Alley had caught wind that something would happen that night, and the only others around were a huddled man, smelling strongly of carris seeds, and a shabby prostitute sheltering from the rain. Neither showed any interest in the hidden Coterie as it moved through the night with a whisper.

They paused in a cavernous shadow, where a Malfoy-owned drug den once stood.

" _Now_."

At the whispered command, the seven Aurors removed their Invisibility Cloaks. Most tucked them into the pockets of their robes; Harry found an unoccupied pocket in his Muggle-style combat pants. He had no desire to get tangled up in voluminous fabric on a dark, rainy night like this.

With the darkness and the rain, Harry couldn't see more than three feet in front of him, but he could sense Ron, excited and worried, and Dennis Creevey, who was fearless and eager to begin. The others, less known to him, were merely a blur of anticipation. As always, Harry found himself straining to identify individuals, like a non-musician attempting to follow an individual instrument in an orchestra.

 _Stop that_ , he thought. Empathic abilities were unmeasurable, but he could never shake the feeling that his were duller than the rest.

_And whose fault is that?_

Harry abandoned the useless line of thought. 

He'd never been particularly musical, either.

Silently, the Coterie advanced, taking up their positions. 

"Open up on College business!"

Harry watched from the shadows as Enid Zabini leaped forward kicked the door open, demonstrating yet again why a Slytherin with an inferiority complex should never be allowed to watch Muggle action movies. It was all Ron's fault, he mused as he watched his best friend follow Enid through the door. He smiled at the memory of that weekend of beer, bad Muggle movies and Chinese food four years ago, back when they were mostly relative strangers. Ron had been determined to share his newly discovered love of film with the world; the weekend had gone further in developing a cohesive Coterie unit than six months of Ministry-sponsored "camps". 

Lisa and Michael entered next, moving more cautiously than their seniors. Next were Dennis and Marion; Dennis bore that slightly manic grin made Harry think twice about considering taking up the Dark Arts as a casual hobby, or even jaywalking. Enid wasn't the only one who'd watched too many Bruce Willis films. Marion merely looked determined, bless her homicidal, Hufflepuff soul.

Harry, as the Coterie's Second, was the last to enter, ready to move quickly if a trap was sprung. That was the way of the Coterie: you formed emotional, empathetic bonds, and you looked after your colleagues.

Before he moved, he turned slightly, but no one met his gaze from the shadows.

Inside the shop, he found the greatest anticlimax of his career: Janus Borgin quietly allowing himself to be magically bound to the Portkey that would take him to the College's cells. He looked up as Harry entered, meeting his eyes through a curtain of limp, greying hair.

"Potter. The Ministry has planned quite a party indeed. And I'm not even dressed."

Borgin was wearing a worn, grey nightshirt, although there was fresh ink on his fingers, and heat radiated from the teapot on the counter. It looked as though he'd been enjoying a peaceful midnight tea party before the entrance of the Aurors, although there were fresh potions in the cauldrons around the counter.

Two teacups rested beside the antique cash register.

"Good evening, Janus," Harry said conversationally, peering into a cauldron with interest. He looked up at Enid. "Is the rest of the building secured?"

"I'm on it." _And don't tell me how to do my job, you great Gryffindor prat_ , she didn't say. Harry took the hint, and hung back as Ron, Marion and Lisa returned to confirm that yes, the shop and the flat above it were completely secured.

"Even the regular wards are down," Lisa added, biting her lip. She glared at Janus and added pointedly, "one might even think he knew we were coming."

"One might even think he had something nasty up his sleeve," said Dennis. He, like everyone else, was still carrying his wand. Borgin had a history of springing nasty surprises on Coteries. This sullen compliance was unprecedented, and Harry found it worrying. 

"One might even think I was tired," Borgin said. "Take me away, if you will," he said to Enid. "I have no further purpose here."

Enid nodded, her eyes blazing with curiosity, and they both vanished.

Over the sound of the rain, Harry could hear pops and curses as journalists and photographers Apparated into Knockturn Alley. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Your entourage, Mr Potter?" His sarcasm had an edge to it; Michael always liked to push people. It made him a good interrogator, and a lousy colleague.

"They're not _mine_ ," Harry snarled, as flashes began to go off in the window and the Fourth Estate of the wizarding world attempted to catch a glimpse of the Man Formerly Known As The Boy Who Lived at work.

_See Potter. See Potter work. See Potter save the world. See Potter stare at a cauldron full of gooey sludge and wonder what it does._

He had just decided against poking it, either with a wand or a finger, when the door opened, and a journalist actually threw himself into the room.

"Sorry about that, chaps," he said cheerfully, "but it's raining Snidgets out there, and why hang about in the wet when the story's in here?"

"This is Ministry business," Ron snapped. "Get yourself out. Or get yourself arrested for obstructing the College of Aurors, and see how Malfoy enjoys bailing you out."

"Mr Weasley! Hero of the Diamond Gorge-"

"Out," Ron said, raising his wand.

"How does it feel, playing Third Auror to the Boy Who Lived?"

Harry retreated to the sidelines, glancing outside. Knockturn Alley was more visible now; the rabble of reporters had lit their wands and carried self-illuminating notebooks. On the other side of the narrow street, he caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure moving further into the shadows.

 _Does Daddy know you're here?_ he silently asked the figure.

"Not as good as it will feel to arrest you-"

"Let him out," said Harry wearily. He grabbed the journalist by the scruff of the neck, ignoring the fact that the man was a head and a half taller than he - _walk as if you own the school, Potter, cease this ridiculous slinking around. Stand up and look me straight in the eye, like your father did_ \- and made for the door.

"Mr Potter! Allow me to introduce myself: I am Thomas DeMartiller of the _Evening Seer_ -"

"This may amaze you, DeMartiller, but I really don't care."

The door flew open as Harry approached, and the herd of journalists and photographers straightened.

"There," said Harry cheerfully, "that'll make the front page. That's all your lot want, isn't it?"

Somewhat reluctantly, he released DeMartiller _without_ dropping him in a puddle, and faded into the shadows to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. The journalists were concentrating on Borgin and Burkes; no one noticed Harry as he moved across the Alley.

He was beside the girl, as well concealed as she in the shadows, when he removed his cloak. She spun around, cat-like, wand at the ready. He had half expected her to run away at his approach, like the near feral orphans who'd haunted the Alleyways during and after the War, but she identified him and became still.

Oh yes, there was a lot that he recognised in this girl.

"Knockturn Alley is no place for a teenage girl," he said conversationally, as soon as he was sure that she wouldn't flee.

"It's no place for anyone," she said, looking past him at the prostitute and the addict, who were watching proceedings with interest. Her cloak slipped aside, revealing a flimsy Muggle dress. Harry shuddered at the thought of a girl like this in the Alley, fair game for the illegal Potions merchants, the Dark Wizards, the pimps and drug dealers.

Although, come to think of it, that was a fair summary of her family tree.

"Where's your father?" he asked.

"France." She pushed her hood back, revealing very long, black hair that fell around her face, emphasising the pallor of her skin and the strong, ugly features she'd inherited from her father.

"Does he know you're here?"

"You _must_ be joking."

"You should get home."

She shifted, looking annoyed. "I Floo'd here. Now your Aurors are crawling all over the shop."

"Well, you can't spend the night out here."

"I _do_ realise that."

He held his Cloak out. "Hop under here. I'll take you home." 

Harry was not a tall man, but the days when he could share his Cloak with another person were long gone. He sent the girl across to the shop, grabbed his wand and Apparated, beating her there by several minutes.

"Jesus, Harry," breathed Dennis as he appeared. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Just keeping you on your toes."

"It's not my toes you should be worried about."

The door opened slightly, and then closed. Dennis, Lisa and Ron raised their wands, but Harry stilled them. He cast _Obfuscato - long_ overdue, in his opinion - on the windows, ignoring the howls of protest from the mob outside as the glass went dark.

"Well," he said, directing his words to a point somewhere near the door, "come on out, then."

There was a whisper of fabric near the fireplace; Harry turned and found himself looking into a pair of slightly amused black eyes.

"I thought you Aurors never let anyone get behind you," she said.

"Let's just assume that I'm very trusting."

Dennis, examining the contents of a concealed cupboard, tried and entirely failed to disguise his laughter. Harry ignored him and lit the fire.

"I'll take you home," he said, not bothering to pretend it was a request. She nodded, reluctantly, and threw the powder into the flames.

As he followed her into the fire, Harry heard Dennis say to Lisa, "Isn't that the Snape girl?" Then the fire swallowed him, and Knockturn Alley vanished in a haze of ash.


	2. Chapter 2

  
They arrived in a typical wizarding house, albeit neater and newer than the Burrow, or even the Granger-Weasley home. The first things that Harry noticed were the books. They were everywhere: on the kitchen table, on the benches, stuffed into corners and in piles next to the couch.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" she asked diffidently.

"Thanks. Black, two sugars."

She made it manually, while he examined some of the titles on the table. . Several nasty looking Potions texts that made him wonder if he shouldn't be watching her make his tea _very_ carefully. _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6. Ars Potionis_

And, tucked behind them all, there was a battered paperback: _The Boy Who Lived, the unauthorised biography of Harry Potter_. When he picked it up, it fell straight open to Chapter Six: Snape, the Shadowy Mentor.

This was her collection, then. Certainly not her father's. And speaking of whom... As she handed him a mug, he asked, "When does your father get back?"

"The fourteenth. He's attending the International Conference of Magical Educators." She stared into her drink, rotating the cup between hands that seemed almost too large for her thin arms. Her damp cloak had been thrown over a chair, revealing a gaunt frame. Slightly appalled, Harry averted his gaze from the prominent cheekbones, wrists, and collarbones revealed by her skimpy dress. Almost reluctantly, she added, "Technically, he forbade me to leave Oxford. But I wanted to see my uncle." 

"Borgin."

"Of course." She watched him for a moment. "I know who you are," she said.

"Oh?"

"Potter. The Boy Who Lived." There was a cynical note in her voice, and Harry suppressed a wild urge to look around for her father.

"I know who you are, too," he said, and was rewarded with a surprised look, the first unguarded expression he'd seen on her face.

"Who am I, then?"

"The Lestrange child. The Azkaban baby. The Dementor's child." Rather apologetically, he added, "I'm afraid I don't actually know your name."

She scowled. "I'm not a Lestrange. I was never meant to be a Lestrange, why do you think my mother--" She stopped.

"And your name?"

She mumbled something. Harry stared. "Did you say your name is _Lily_?" A million half-remembered rumours and thirty year old slanders flooded into his mind.

"Lil _ith_. Lilith Miriam Susanna Borgin. My mother named me before -- before the Dementors Kissed her."

"I knew your mother slightly," said Harry before he could stop himself.

"I'm not surprised. She was a Death Eater, you're Harry Potter. You must have found so much to talk about."

_Yeah, well, she did enjoy torturing some good friends of mine_. Harry bit his lip before the words could leave his mouth. Hermione might enjoy criticising his sensitivity, or lack thereof \-- not that she was much better, really -- but he recognised the hungry curiosity in Lilith's eyes, and he knew better than to criticise much-loved deceased parents.

It was one of many lessons he'd learnt at Snape's hands.

"How long have you known Borgin? I can't imagine that your father encouraged the relationship."

"Since I was twelve. We met briefly in Diagon Alley. He knew who I was. My father took me away and forbade me to speak to him, but he sent me letters."

"He initiated the contact?"

"Yes. He said that Father had no right to keep him away from his last living relative."

"And what did you think of that?"

She shrugged. "It was just Father and I, and Aunt Arabella, sort of. And then there was Uncle Janus. Family. I liked that." She asked softly, "will he go to Azkaban?"

"That's my hope. But he's been brought in before. Evidence and witnesses have a tendency to disappear, and Borgin has some pretty powerful allies."

"He's just a businessman."

"He's a--" Harry stopped himself. He was exhausted, and he was losing control of his tongue. Swallowing the last of his tea, he stood up. "I need to get back to the Ministry. I'll be back tomorrow to take an official statement."

"Very well."

"Don't go anywhere. Don't tell anyone about the raid."

"Right." She sounded bored, but he had a feeling that she'd obey.

"And stay away from men like Borgin."

The last thing he saw before he Disapparated was Lilith Borgin rolling her eyes and slouching back in her chair.

***

It was so bloody depressing, Lilith decided after Potter had Apparated away. The Boy Who Lived was all grown up, and far from being the arrogant scofflaw her father occasionally complained of, he was as dull and repressive as any other adult she knew.

"Stay away from men like Borgin."

Huh. As if she hadn't heard that advice before.

He sounded like her father. Wouldn't Father hate that, she wondered. Or maybe he'd approve. She never knew what he was thinking, except that it was bound to be critical.

Merlin. Father. Who'd be reading the _Daily Prophet_ in a few hours, and for all she knew, her face would be splashed across the page with Potter's. Hiding in the shadows hadn't concealed her from _him_ , after all, and if he had recognised her, others might.

Her father would know. That she'd come to the attention of the College of Aurors. That she'd been seeing her uncle, in direct defiance of his directives. That she'd been visiting Knockturn Alley on a regular basis.

_Merlin._

Potter might be a dull stick, another Auror in the grand hero machine, but she'd rather deal with him than her father.

Lilith leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples. Her head was hurting, and she couldn't remember if she had any of the analgesic potion left. She buried her head in her ink-stained arms on the kitchen table, uncomfortably aware of the Dark Arts books surrounding her. Potter had probably noticed. She wondered if he knew enough about Potions to recognise that two of the books were strictly forbidden, except to authorised parties. 

Her father was an authorised party.

Lilith was most emphatically not.

Maybe she could share a cell with her uncle in Azkaban.

Potter would return tomorrow. She should clear up, get a few hours' sleep. But the room spun when she stood up, and her migraine worsened.

It was going to be a bad one.

She managed to get to the couch in the next room without collapsing. She curled up, snuggling into the blanket Aunt Arabella had made for her when she was nine.

Things had been simpler when she was nine. No uncles, no relatives at all apart from her father, but no migraines, or exams, or classmates happy to destroy the Headmaster's daughter. 

Lilith groaned and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the swirling lights behind her eyelids. Her uncle was in custody, Potter was returning in a few hours, and her father was sure to find out about it.

And there was something else ... something that nagged at her behind the pain and nausea. Something she needed to remember...

Eventually, the sound of the rain on the roof lulled her to sleep, but the nagging feeling remained.

***

"The conquering hero returns," called Michael Truelake as Harry Apparated into the Coterie lounge. 

"Very funny. Is everything secure?"

Enid gave him an amused, exasperated look. With the strain of the raid over, she had resumed the mask of an affectionate elder sister. "Isn't that my line? Though it's the second time tonight you've stolen it--"

"Yeah, whatever. Is Borgin secure?"

"Safe and sound. The Second Coterie relieved us."

"How's the Snape girl?" asked Dennis.

"A chip off the old block."

"Oh God, kill her now," called Michael. Enid gave him an irritated look, but didn't bother reviving the old Let's Be Nice to Slytherins Argument. It wasn't unusual for Slytherin Aurors to have a chip on their shoulders, and Enid was better than most, but Michael had a knack for pushing her.

So did Harry, now he thought of it.

"Harry," said Enid, handing him a cup of coffee, "nice work tonight."

"Was that work? Borgin hardly even put up a fight. I didn't do much."

"I meant with the journalists. And Severus' daughter."

"Ignore Harry," said Ron, "he's just an adrenaline addict. We need more jobs like that one."

"What, boring?" asked Dennis, "aren't you the man who went haring off after Jocasta Kostakeidis without a wand?"

"Yeah, well," Ron shrugged, "maybe I'm growing old."

"Or up," Enid muttered. 

"Hey, I've got a family to think about."

"Uh, Ron?" said Lisa, "I hate to break this to you, but at your birthday party, Hermione told me that your untimely death would be just the excuse she needed to become a hermit and finish her third book."

"Yeah, but she always gets a bit crazed when she's editing."

Enid leaned over to Harry and asked quietly, "Is there any point in questioning Lilith?"

"Probably not. Has her uncle said anything?"

"Of course not. He's quietly waiting for his Advocate. Makes my skin crawl."

"Mine too," Harry admitted.

"Speaking of Advocates, can you keep your godfather away from this one?"

"Not a problem. Sirius reckons he won't defend the same person twice. Not for the same crime, anyway."

"Lovely."

"I was planning to get a statement from Lilith tomorrow, but I don't think she's important."

"Sounds good." Enid stood up, making sure that she had everyone's attention. "Off duty, people; I'll see you all in the morning." 

***

Harry exhaled slowly as he arrived home, feeling exhaustion creep over him as his caffeine-prolonged adrenaline high diminished. He could sympathise with Enid sometimes, the way she concealed her true personality from all but the closest of friends.

Like Ron and Hermione, or Marion.

Not Harry. Not since-

He stared numbly at his reflection in the mirror.

"Bad hair day?" the mirror asked.

"Shut up."

He was thirty-three, but in these quiet moments, when there was nothing else to fill his mind, he felt older. It was almost shocking, to look in the mirror and see someone so ... young staring back at him. The flecks of grey in his hair were premature; they were the only obvious signs of the stress of the last few years. But his eyes, they held his age, and more. Haunted green eyes in a strained, pale face. He'd lost weight, he realised: his clothes hung off his frame, and his cheekbones were more prominent than he remembered.

_Ladies and gentlemen, the Boy Who Lived._

_So ... have you saved the world lately? What have you done to justify your existence today?_

Like so many others lately, it was a pointless, circular line of thought. Harry turned away from his reflection and went to bed, but he didn't sleep. 

***

The house felt still and unoccupied when Harry Apparated into the small parlour that most wizarding households used as a magical entry point. The mid-morning light was bright, but there was no sign of Lilith.

He wandered through the house, opening doors and listening to his footsteps echo on the wooden floors. Snape may have been out of the country, but his presence permeated the otherwise-deserted house. Despite the sunshine, Harry felt as though he was thirteen again, being led down into the dungeons for punishment.

On a low table was a copy of that morning's _Daily Prophet_ and some owl treats. The raid was on the third page; there was a particularly good photo of Ron leading the Coterie out of the shop. At least Lilith had avoided the attention of the media, Harry thought. 

Scrawled across the newspaper were the words, 'We'll speak when I get home. Father.'

He paused to examine an overflowing bookshelf. Hermione would fit in well here, he decided. In fact, there was a well-worn copy of her first book right in front of him. He flipped through it, but there was no autograph, or indeed any sign that Snape was acquainted with the author, aside from some acerbic margin notes in the first chapter.

"Potter."

Harry swung around in surprise. Lilith was standing behind him, a towel wrapped around her head. Her face was still damp, and her eyes were oddly bright. She'd traded her flimsy Muggle dress for a more traditional gown (black again; he was beginning to understand her taste). The outfit made her look even more vulnerable than the other dress, for it revealed her prominent collar-bones.

"Are you all right?" he asked, for there was a disturbing brittleness about her. Absently, he began ticking off the symptoms of illicit Potion use.

"Fine," she said shortly. His scepticism must have been obvious, for she added, "I had a migraine. The analgesic potion removes the pain, but it makes me feel -- strange. More real than real, if that makes sense."

"I'm familiar with the potion." He'd used it a lot when he was sixteen. Had he looked like that, he wondered, a skinny, unnaturally wakeful teenager?

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Tea? Coffee? Breakfast?"

"Coffee. Please. Black, two sugars."

Lilith led him into the kitchen, denuded of last night's books. She made him coffee and joined him at the table with a glass of pumpkin juice. For the first time, Harry noticed the Muggle refrigerator and stove.

Following his gaze, she said, "There's a lot of coming and going between Muggles and wizards in Oxford." She sipped her juice, slowly. Noticing the tension in her hands, Harry wondered how effective the analgesic potion was. 

Lilith was watching him as closely as he was studying her.

"What can I do for you, Mr Potter?" she asked. 

Harry opened his backpack and drew out several blank parchments and a Transcription Quill. He quickly tested it, and showed her the resulting page to prove that it wasn't a Quick Quotes Quill. "I need a statement from you regarding your presence at the raid, your visits to Borgin's shop and your relationship with your uncle."

"Will it be used as evidence in the trial?"

He snorted. "We'll be lucky if Borgin stays in custody for more than a day. His solicitors will get him out. They always do."

"Good," said Lilith softly. Then, "fine. I'll answer your questions."

"Good girl." She pulled a face at him. Harry pulled one back, and she laughed quietly. 

"You're not nearly as boring as you try to make out, are you, Potter?"

"You'd be amazed at how dull I really am." Harry indicated his parchments. "May we begin?"

"Please." Lilith removed the towel from her head and proceeded to brush her tangled hair.

"How did you come to be outside at the time of the raid?"

She shrugged. "Uncle Janus knew that Dad was out of the country - there was an article about the conference in the _Prophet_ \- so he owled me and invited me over. He'd promised that I could stay the night, go through his books-" She looked suddenly guilty, but recovered quickly. "Talk, and so forth. We don't see much of each other ... not as much as I'd like."

"How long were you there?"

"Several hours, I suppose. The raid was shortly after midnight, am I correct? I can't really remember how we spent the evening. You know how time slips away when you're talking."

"I know."

"I was on the verge of going to bed, when his Foe Glass lit up: seven Aurors, heading our way. He told me to get home, but he wouldn't let me use the Floo network - it's traceable, I suppose, but it was pretty stupid of him, really - I mean, how else was I going to get home? Did he think I'd spend a night hanging around Knockturn Alley?"

"In my experience, Borgin - and others like him - become remarkably selfish when threatened. Short-sighted, too." 

"Yes, but I'm _family_. I should be treated better." She shook her head and continued, "I went out the back way, and ducked through the alley beside the shop to get back to the street. But of course, I had nowhere to go after that... I lingered, thinking that he might need my help, but I had no idea what to do."

"Admirable, anyway."

"Stupid."

"Well, yes. But admirable, nonetheless."

"It was a useless notion. I abandoned it pretty quickly when I realised that you were part of the raid. Everyone knows that Harry Potter can do what he wants."

"That's not quite true." But not far off. "Did you spend much time in the store?"

"Sometimes. He'd tell me stories, about how he got the stuff, and what it did." Lilith removed the towel from her head and proceeded to brush her tangled hair.

Harry glanced up. "He trained you in the Dark Arts?"

"No. He just told me about some artefacts." She peered up at him through a curtain of hair. "Last time I checked, knowledge alone didn't constitute a crime. Otherwise, they'd have to lock up all the Aurors."

Harry refused to be baited. "Ever deal with the customers?"

"Sometimes."

"Think you could identify them?"

"Perhaps."

"A heavy-set black man with a scar on his face in the shape of an equilateral triangle?"

Lilith shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"A thin woman, about forty, blond hair, yellow eyes, moves like a cat?"

"No."

"Blond man about my age, grey eyes, looks like a ferret?"

"No." She offered him a challenging smile. "I've only ever seen Draco Malfoy in the _Daily Prophet_. Where he is described as an upstanding citizen, and looks nothing like a ferret."

"Touché. Although you'd be amazed at what the Daily Prophet considers an upstanding citizen, if he holds enough shares. And I'm going to stick with the ferret descriptor."

"He looks like an albino squirrel. Twitchy."

Harry laughed, and she smiled in return. Not such a bad kid, really, he thought. Smart, at least. The kind of person he'd have wanted as a sister.

The tension had been broken, and he saw her hands relax as they returned to business.

"Did you ever meet your uncle's business partner?"

"Lucas Burke? No, never." She frowned. "That's strange, isn't it? I mean, he only disappeared six months ago, and I've spent _hours_ at my uncle's shop over the last few years. But I never met him."

"Very strange," Harry agreed, "although by all accounts he's more paranoid than Mad Eye Moody. Officially, he disappeared in February, but no one's actually seen him with their own eyes since last November."

"Maybe he really loves his Invisibility Cloak."

"Perhaps." Harry shook his head. "Thanks for your time, Lilith."

"A pleasure, Potter. It's not every day that a bona fide hero comes around to ask routine questions of an innocent teenager."

"What can I say? I needed a day job."

"I didn't think they sent the Boy Who Lived out to do drudge work. They say you can pick any assignment you like."

"Nah. They gave me that option a couple of years ago, after - after I'd been an Auror for a few years. I rejected it." 

"Was that after your wife died?" She stopped, looking horrified. "I'm sorry-"

Harry looked down at his hands, wrapped around his coffee cup. There was still a lighter band of skin on his left ring finger; the summer sun had yet to remove that trace. Heal that scar. 

"Yeah," he said softly. "That was after she died."

"I shouldn't have said anything." Now, at least, he'd truly cracked through her nonchalant, sulky façade; here was real remorse. It was more genuine emotion than he'd ever seen from either of her parents, and it made her seem more real, less of a copy of two people he'd hated.

"It doesn't matter," he said gamely. He glanced down at the transcript, the faux pas preserved on the parchment. 

Harry stood up, stuffing his things into his backpack. "Thanks for the coffee," he said. Lilith watched him, her face unreadable. "I'll contact you if I need to speak to you again, and if you think of anything more, please owl me straight away."

Lilith nodded. "There's just one thing," she said, "my father. He - he doesn't usually follow trials that closely, so he might not find out that I was there unless-"

"We don't exactly speak," said Harry shortly. "If Snape finds out, it won't be from me."

"Thank you."

Harry didn't bother returning to the Apparition parlour; he grasped his wand and Disapparated from the kitchen.

***  
  
Ron looked up from his messy desk as Harry appeared in his office.

"Harry, you idiot, you're not supposed to Apparate here-"

"Yeah, well. I was in a hurry."

"How was Snape?"

"Out of the country, just the way I like him."

"Lucky," said Ron. "Hey, check this out." He shoved a sheaf of parchments at Harry. "Enid just dropped these in - wanted Hermione or Sirius to take a look at them. It's the paperwork from Borgin's solicitors."

"I'm no lawyer," Harry murmured, but the meaning was quickly apparent: Borgin would cooperate with the College of Aurors and the Ministerial judicial system.

"Borgin didn't run. And now he's _not_ squirming his way out of prison."

"Right," said Ron.

"Is he talking?"

"Called Enid a few things I wouldn't repeat in front of Mum, but he refused to list names."

There was a knock at the door, and Enid entered. "Ron, have you shown Harry - oh, good, you're here. Listen, Borgin wants to speak to you."

"Why me?" asked Harry, scowling. He already knew the answer, but he would have thought Borgin would be immune to the dubious glamour of fame, not demanding to see him, like some common dabbler. "Yeah, I'll come."

Enid was several inches taller than Harry, and he had to stride to keep up with her. Her younger brother had been in his year at school; the whole family was Slytherin to the core, but rumours of Dark magic had never so much as touched them. They channelled their ambitions into business, and the Ministry. Harry was never certain where he stood with Enid, or Blaise for that matter; they were cool and polite, and he was ... himself. He and Enid had almost been friends, once, until that whole mess with the Cabal. He had defeated that dangerous incarnation of the Dark Order, but even now, two years later, he was still counting the cost: budding friendships, his youth, his wife...

But he trusted Enid, almost more than he trusted Ron or Dennis. Enid was dispassionate; she'd never hesitate to abandon him if it would serve some greater purpose. And by the same token, she'd never make that decision prematurely. Harry suspected that Hermione, had she become an Auror, would have developed the same skill, but Hermione had become an Unspeakable, quietly manipulating the wizarding and Muggle worlds from the confines of her office.

Harry had no doubt which job required the greater level of courage and integrity.

"Borgin's cooperating," Enid said, "has Ron told you that? Frankly, I'm worried. You weren't involved, the last time he was captured, but I was - and this is completely different. No violence, no threats..."

They exited the passageway, emerging on another floor, in another wing of the Tower. The opalescent glow of the upper levels had been replaced by something darker, more disquieting: if the upper tower resembled a white pearl, the lower levels were the black cousins. 

"He's here willingly," Enid said, biting her nails. 

"Something's after him, then?"

"Something. Or someone. Has your girl Snape encountered Lucas Burke lately?"

"Never met the bastard. And her surname is Borgin"

"Confusing. And annoying. I thought we were onto something there."

"You might still be right. By all accounts, Borgin wanted to protect Lilith from the more, uh, unpleasant aspects of his work."

"Then he should have left her alone," said Enid grimly, and they entered the cells.

Janus Borgin was sitting quietly in a cell at the far end, apparently absorbed in a meditative trance. Harry could see no resemblance to his late, mad sister, but there was a hint of Lilith in his chin. With his greasy, greying hair and sallow skin, Borgin looked more like Severus Snape than anyone else, and Harry remembered how closely pure-blood families were related. Hell, _he_ might be related to Borgin on his father's side.

At last, Borgin opened his eyes. "Potter."

"Borgin." Harry leaned closer to the bars, careful not to let the charmed metal touch his skin. Even at a few inches' distance, the protective magic warmed his skin. "Something you wanted to tell me?"

"I just wanted to bask in the reflected glory of the Boy Who Lived." Borgin smirked. "Looking a little worn around the edges, Potter."

Harry ignored that. "I spoke to your niece this morning." 

A flicker of something - fear? - crossed Borgin's face. "Lilith. I hope you Aurors kept your filthy hands off her."

"I think you have me confused with Lucius Malfoy. As it happens, she's safe and well, and worried about you."

"I - that is gratifying. She's my only living relative, you know."

"I know." Harry started to pace, feeling Borgin's eyes following him. "Why, Borgin? What would she reveal if I interrogated her?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell me now, or tell me under Veritaserum in a few hours."

"You may have trouble with that, Mr Potter. I took Inveritas Potion this evening. For the next ... hmm, twenty-one days, the slightest dose of Veritaserum will cause me to go into anaphylactic shock. And unless you're inclined to take up Necromancy as a hobby, my corpse is unlikely to be very forthcoming."

Behind him, Harry heard Enid swear. She took a few steps forward, her heels clicking on the stone. 

"How are you enjoying our hospitality, Janus?" she snarled. "You seem quite uncharacteristically eager to remain in the hands of the College, yet you refuse to help with our investigation. Inveritas is a Proscribed Infusion, yet you freely admit to taking it. That's three years in Azkaban already. Why are you here? Why didn't you Disapparate as soon as you knew we were coming? You can't possibly have believed that we'd mistreat a fifteen year old girl."

"I admit it. I'm here for the food. Prison food is addictive, you know. My compliments to the house elves."

"What are you running from, Janus?" Enid asked, almost gently.

"Nothing."

"Liar," said Harry. 

"We'll pull you up into the Circle if we have to," Enid said. The gentleness had gone from her voice, and Harry gave her a worried look. He had no desire to be part of a Circle if he could avoid it. _I thought_ I _was meant to be the bad cop..._

"I'm not running from anything." Enid and Harry exchanged a look.

"Summon the Coterie, Harry," Enid ordered.

"Fine," said Borgin, licking his lips nervously. "I sold some tainted goods -- cursed carvings from Papua New Guinea. I recovered most of them, but a few are irretrievable, and my customers -- should they survive -- are likely to be disgruntled." His hands were shaking slightly as he said this, and the back of Harry's neck prickled. 

Borgin reached through the bars, the hairs on his arm rising from all the magic worked into the metal. He was careful not to touch the bars as he took hold of Harry's arm. His hands were sweaty, and Harry shuddered, wanting to pull back, but unwilling to cause unnecessary injury.

"Please," said Borgin, "you must protect me."

His story was likely to be true, Harry mused as he returned to his office, but it wasn't the whole truth.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Harry tried to work on the paperwork from the raid, but his mind refused to stay on course. It had been a couple of years since he'd left his paperwork until the last possible minute, but this time, he'd probably end up signing the final papers as he drank his morning coffee on the day of the deadline. 

Ron routinely pestered Hermione to finish them off for him, but for all that, he was the better Auror. Ron _liked_ his job. Harry ... Harry had debts to pay off, the moral and emotional kind, which were so much more burdensome than the merely financial.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from his desk, grinning at the head which had appeared in his fireplace.

"Sirius. Mate, you have no idea how glad I am to see your face right now." His melancholy falling away, he filled Sirius in on the events of the last twenty-four hours.

"Just promise me that you won't defend Borgin. Or Burke, if we can bring him in."

Sirius gave him a grim smile. "No way. They've had their chances."

"Thanks."

"So, aside from the lovely Janus Borgin, how's your day been?"

"Odd. I spent the morning with Snape's daughter."

"Lilith? How is she?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. " _You_ know _Snape's daughter_?"

"Harry, I'm the one who persuaded the Ministry to allow her to be born."

"What? When? No, wait, I can guess when. I guess I was, uh, pretty out of it that year." 

The year after Voldemort's fall had been largely spent in a depressive stupor, punctuated by adrenaline-fuelled broomstick rides. Had it been three or four Firebolts that he'd smashed before his friends put their feet down and staged a full-scale intervention?

"How much do you know?"

"The outlines. The public stuff, and a few rumours, most of them pretty tawdry. Snape and Mrs Lestrange. The Azkaban Baby." Harry shrugged. "That's about it. I recognised her when I saw her, but then, she's the spitting image of her dad. I didn't even know her name until yesterday night." 

"Well, I can't say that I know the kid well, but I can tell you about her background. Want to come over for dinner?"

"Love to. Tonight?"

"Sure. Bring Ron and Hermione and some red wine. If I'm feeling especially nostalgic, I'll prepare rat."

"Don't go to any trouble."

"Trouble? Me? Don't be absurd." Sirius glanced at something behind him. "Look, I have to go. I'll see you this evening."

***

That night, the three of them settled in Sirius' lounge room after dinner.

"David Lestrange," Sirius began, "was recaptured only ten days after the fall of Azkaban. He committed suicide rather than return to captivity." He frowned at something beyond Harry's perception. "I ... don't all together blame him."

Hermione leaned forward. "I did some research when Harry told me what this was about - stop laughing, Ron, _someone_ has to take these things seriously! Anyway, I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain that it was Snape who arranged the recapture."

"That sounds about right," said Sirius. "Now, Eugenia Borgin Lestrange was a madwoman, but she was as calculating as all hell."

Ron shivered, stroking Hermione's arm for comfort. "I remember."

"She believed - passionately \- in the inherent rightness of Voldemort's campaigns, and the inevitability of his success. And since, in the sixteen years she'd spent in Azkaban, her brother had fathered no children, she decided to do her bit for the pure-blooded cause and maintain the family line."

"With Snape," said Ron.

"With Snape, although no one knew that at first. The child was conceived three months before the Fall of Voldemort."

"How could he do that?" asked Hermione, "conceive a child, knowing what kind of mother it would have, and what kind of world it might be born into? Leaving aside the probability that Snape knew about the Final Campaign at that stage."

"Snape's a cold blooded bastard, Hermione, and every bit as calculating as Eugenia." Sirius drained his wine. "I doubt he really cared about the fate of the child." He refilled his wineglass, and poured Harry a refill, although Ron and Hermione abstained.

"In July, a month after the Defeat, Draco Malfoy turned himself into the Ministry, claimed to be under Imperius and arranged for a large group of his fellow fugitives to be recaptured. Among them was Eugenia, now four months pregnant. This is where I came in."

"I did wonder how you were involved," said Harry.

"Oh, Snape asked for my help."

Ron choked on his coffee. "Snape? _Asked?_ You?"

"In the sense of backing me against a wall with his wand at my throat, yeah. Told me that I owed him a favour, and I was bloody well going to pay it back. I persuaded the Ministry to postpone the Kiss until the child had been born." Sirius frowned. "I couldn't talk them out of keeping Eugenia under the Dementors, though, so Lilith achieved minor celebrity as the Azkaban baby."

Hermione scowled. "They were idiots to trust the Dementors at all, after the Fall of Azkaban. They should never have built the place at all, but to continue using it, after its ineffectiveness had been proved-" She paused and smiled slightly. "Sorry. I've been having this argument far too often, lately."

"You're preaching to the choir, Hermione, remember?" said Sirius, "I'm your chief tenor."

"I know, I know..."

"Why did Snape suddenly care about the fate of the baby?" asked Ron.

"I have no idea. I don't exactly have an insight into the man's mind, Ron. Nor do I care to."

"Maybe he had grown to care about it," said Hermione softly.

"I don't know," said Sirius. "I can tell you that he never visited Eugenia, either at Azkaban or St Mungo's, and up until a couple of weeks before the birth, he was planning to give the baby up for adoption."

"Why-" began Hermione, but Sirius waved his hand.

"I can actually answer this one. I was there for the whole thing." He smiled at the memory. "He was in my office, conferring with me about Macnair's trial, and Arabella Figg came storming in, calling him every name under the sun. Told him he was a selfish bastard who minced around looking like a martyr while avoiding as much responsibility as he possibly could, and didn't he think that there were enough orphaned and unwanted magical children around without adding more, and what if the adoptive parents found out where she came from and who her real parents were?

"Arabella was the only teacher he ever listened to at school - frankly, we were all a bit scared of her - and he listened to her now. So he was present for the birth, and he took the child."

"Were you at the birth?" asked Hermione.

"I was." Sirius frowned. "They had the Dementors waiting outside, ready to give the Kiss -- Eugenia held her baby for a moment, suckled it and named it. Then she looked up at Snape and said, 'I've done all that I could. I don't suppose for a minute that you'll do the best thing by her, but try not to mess it up too badly.' Snape ... Snape looked at her. Didn't say anything. And then the Dementors were brought in."

"How did the baby react?" asked Hermione.

"She was quiet. A bit unnatural, really. Too subdued. Harry, now," Sirius grinned, "I was with Harry pretty soon after he was born, and he would have shrieked his little lungs out of you'd brought him within a mile of a Dementor. Not that James and Lily would have allowed it..."

"What happened after that?" asked Ron.

"Mrs Lestrange was Kissed, and I left."

"You _stayed_ for that?" asked Harry before he could stop himself.

"I went to school with her," said Sirius simply. "I knew her when she was just a snotty, snobby eleven year old. To leave would be ... contemptible. Snape left, and took the baby and Arabella with him. That's all I can tell you." He grimaced. "Snape didn't exactly name me godfather."

"Does she have godparents?" asked Ron.

"I don't know. Arabella might be her godmother. You'll have to ask her. But I lost track of Lilith and Snape after that - there was the little matter of _my_ godson to worry about." Harry blushed and ducked his head. "You should try asking Moony about Lilith; he taught her for three years."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I will."

The conversation turned to other matters, but Harry's mind kept returning to Lilith: the oddly silent newborn, and the girl who stood in the rain in Knockturn Alley.

At the end of the night, Hermione caught Harry's arm before he could Disapparate.

"Listen," she said, "about this business with Borgin - technically, I'm not supposed to interfere with internal College affairs..."

"But you'll make an exception for us, won't you?"

She sighed. "Yes. I'll see what evidence I have tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Anytime. But promise me one thing in return."

"What?"

"In the matter of Lilith Borgin ... I want you to exercise some discretion."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione sighed, looking as though Sirius' Apparition parlour was the last place where she wanted to have this discussion. "This is the first time in ages that you've taken an interest in something," she said, "a _real_ interest, I mean, not just showing up for work and getting the job done, like you have since - since-"

Harry braced himself.

"-Since Ginny died. And I don't want you to go overboard - I don't want you to get hurt, or get in trouble."

"Hermione," said Harry softly, "what do you mean?"

Ron, he couldn't help noticing, hadn't Apparated in to find out what was keeping Hermione, and Sirius was still lurking in his lounge room, which implied that they'd cooked this up together, probably while he was in the bathroom. _At least they're not staging another full Weasley intervention,_ he tried to tell himself, but he could feel his anger rising anyway.

"I've met her twice. I took her home from Knockturn Alley, and I questioned her later."

"Yes, but this is _Snape's_ daughter, and you and he have a history. People talk."

"Stop beating around the bush. Explain it in words of one syllable for the village idiot."

"You're not an idiot," she said automatically. "And chaperone has three syllables."

"I need a _chaperone_ to talk to kids now?"

"If we were Muggles, it would be standard procedure for all official dealings between law enforcement and minors. Particularly female minors."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't hurt her. You know me, Hermione. What do you think I am?" Despite his efforts, he couldn't keep the hurt from his voice. How can she possibly think-

Ah, but they all had their ghosts: Harry had Voldemort, Ron had Mrs Lestrange, Hermione had Lucius Malfoy.

"I know you. But others don't. And, Harry, think for a minute: who owns controlling shares in the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Just so."

"I don't like this," Harry spat.

"I know. Neither do I. But I don't think that Lilith is the main issue you should be dealing with. Worry about keeping Borgin in custody, Harry. You yourself said that she's probably not important. I can understand why you'd be curious - don't think I didn't see all the parallels - but don't get sidetracked."

"I liked her."

"I know, but you seem to be setting yourself up for some grand crusade. And Harry, not everyone needs saving. Not even the daughter of two Death Eaters, no matter how many unsavoury relatives she has.

"I didn't even-"

"Yes, but I know you." She gave him an affectionate, exasperated look. "You get curious, then you get worried, and _then_ we waste valuable study time trying to prove that Snape is guilty of some absurd crime-"

"Oh come on, you make it sound like I'm eleven again," Harry snapped. To his surprise, Hermione smiled.

"You know, that's the first time in ages that I've seen a _real_ emotional response from you?"

"You manipulated-"

"You let me." She hugged him, to show that there were no hard feelings. "You'll do fine, Harry. I trust you. I just worry about you..."

"Don't. I'll be fine. I am fine. And don't worry about Lilith, either. I just needed some background, in case she has to give evidence."

"I know. I guess - I overreact sometimes, you know that. I'd be interested in meeting her."

"Want to play chaperone?" he asked. It came out with more bitterness than he'd intended, and she recoiled, looking hurt. Harry Disapparated before she could answer.

His flat smelt of dust and isolation, but he fancied that there was a faint trace of Ginny's perfume in the air. An illusion, of course; she'd been dead for nearly two years now. Her photograph gave him a worried look as he swept past it, but he ignored her. It.

He had schooled himself to avoid thinking about her, to sleep rarely and deeply, and to spend his days in a flurry of activity that kept his mind busy.

Exhausted, he was asleep within minutes of lying down.

***

_I overreact sometimes, you know that._

Yes, Hermione thought, but she should have been a bit more subtle. She was supposed to be an Unspeakable, right? Supposed to be clever, and cunning.

She should have remembered how much Harry hated to be manipulated, even when it was for his own good. Should have remembered that he was an adult, no longer the scruffy boy who needed someone to look after him, even if that someone was a bossy girl his own age.

Oh well. She'd make it up to him, next time they spoke. 

She lay awake for a long time, Ron's comforting arm thrown over her body. Automatically, she traced the scar that ran down his forearm (a Laceration Curse two years ago; three days in St Mungo's). Rolling over, she found the starburst scar on his neck (Vena Hex last year; a month in St Mungo's) and the puckered skin over his heart (Torreatus Curse in January; five weeks in hospital and another fortnight of bed rest at home).

"Keeping a tally?" Ron asked sleepily.

"No. Yes." Hermione sighed and burrowed closer to her husband. "I just worry."

"I'm fine."

"You're reckless. You're lucky."

"I know." He twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. "We won't go back to active duty until the Borgin case is over, Hermione. And I'll be careful from now on. We'll be fine."

"I know." Hermione remembered something else. "About Harry..."

"Harry will be fine, too."

"I just-" Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. "I think we should tell him before the others."

"Huh? How does that relate to-?"

"I think we should tell him before we tell your family. Maybe on Friday?"

"What I don't understand is why we have to tell the whole family at once anyway."

"Ron..." Hermione shook her head in the darkness. She loved the Weasleys with the filial greed of an only child, but she suspected that Ron would sometimes be glad to be rid of them.

No, that was unfair. He'd mourned for Ginny, just like everyone else, but he didn't realise how lucky he was to have a large family. Hermione had only her mother left, and Ron, and the Weasleys, and Harry. And she was damned if she was going to lose any more of them.

She opened her mouth to tell him that, but a soft snore told her that he wouldn't be interested.

***

Hermione and Ron's house was a study in academic cosiness, Harry decided. There were none of the chintzy knick-knacks that Aunt Petunia had regarded as essential to the creation of a proper domestic atmosphere, but nearly every surface was covered in books or photographs, or plants, or keepsakes. In many ways, it would have been a Muggle house, except that the photos moved, and the books covered topics as diverse as _The Dark Arts and the Middle East_ and _The Care and Feeding of Winged Horses_. Despite the fact that both Hermione and Ron were liable to spend days away from the house, it felt like a home.

Hermione greeted him in the Apparition Chamber, kissing his cheek and whispering an apology for her words the other night. Harry hugged her; he'd almost forgotten about the incident. She led him into the lounge room with a nervous grin. 

"Sit down," she said.

"Have a drink," added Ron. They exchanged a look of deep amusement.

"What are you planning?" asked Harry.

"Poor Harry," said Ron, opening a Butterbeer and sniggering. "Another couple of years and he'll be as bad as old Mad Eye. Jumping at shadows and turning Malfoys into ferrets ... no one but his Foe Glasses and godchildren to keep him company." 

"Ron, you'd be the last person to complain if I turned Malfoy into a ferret. And I am not paranoid, but you both have the most disturbing look in your eyes, and - wait." Harry's mind caught up with his ears. "Godchildren?"

Hermione smiled. "In March, yes. Well, one, at least."

"For starters," said Ron. He, too, was grinning like an idiot, and he looked as though he was contemplating another generation of Weasleys. Christmas would be an expensive time of year for Molly and Arthur, if Ron and Hermione decided to compete with Percy and Penelope... Harry was arrested by the mental image of small children with red hair and brown eyes, and a light scattering of freckles over the nose-

_Dammit, they didn't have to do this to me_. The unworthy thought was immediately suppressed - _they're doing it for each other, they want me to be happy_ \- and he shaped his lips into a smile.

"Congratulations," he said. "Gonna name it after me?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Harry, one in five magical children are named after you."

"We're taking a new approach all together," Ron added. "Neville Weasley. Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

"You're not serious."

"'Course not." Ron laughed. "But it was worth it for the look on your face."

"We haven't picked a name, yet," said Hermione.

"Well, if you won't name it after me," Harry sighed and placed his hand over his heart. Hermione looked as though she was steeling herself to consider James Weasley. "Promise you'll give a bit of thought to 'Ludmilla'."

"No way," said Ron

"Constantine?"

"Not a chance."

"Eustace? Thomasina? Draco?"

"No, no and _definitely not_."

"Spoil sport."

It was ridiculous, he thought at home later. Ridiculous to begrudge his best friends a family of their own... 

But he couldn't bring himself to look at the magical clock on the wall over the fireplace, with the hand that pointed at _home_ , and the other that hung, slack, pointing at nothing at all.

***

Ron and Hermione announced their pregnancy to the rest of the family at the Burrow, over a barbecue the next day. Harry lurked around the refreshment table, watching the Weasleys cluster around the happy couple, feeling more than a little out of place.

_They told me first because they didn't want me spoiling the party today._

_No. They told me first because I'm their friend. Getting a bit paranoid, aren't we, boy?_

But he hadn't felt truly comfortable with the Weasleys since Ginny's death. No one had had blamed him for not saving her, but that had only made it worse. These days, he avoided as many Weasley gatherings as he could.

"You're family," Molly had said when he tried to apologise. But he didn't quite know what that meant; every time he thought he'd grasped the concept, some new facet emerged.

"Hey." Steve Weasley threw himself into the rickety chair beside Harry's. His gangly adolescent body somehow moulded itself to the chair; he swung his legs over one side and leaned against the other wooden arm. It looked frightfully uncomfortable to Harry, but Steve was constitutionally incapable of sitting in a chair like a normal person. Not for the first time, Harry wondered how Percy and Penelope could have produced such a madcap child.

"Big news on the baby front," Steve said.

"Indeed. Going to baby-sit for your little cousin?"

"Naw." Steve wrinkled his freckled nose. "My sisters can do that." Over in the children's area, Mary-Anne and Charlotte were happily bossing their younger cousins around. "I'm too old to hang around babies." He made it sound as though he were only at the barbecue, indeed, only in the country, as a favour.

Harry suppressed a smile and said, "How old are you, now? Fourteen?"

"Fifteen."

"Oh, sorry." A thought struck him. "Hey, do you know Lilith Borgin? You'd be at school together."

"Borgin? The Thestral? Yeah, I know her. Well, we see each other sometimes. She's a bit of a nutter, though. Why?"

"I met her recently. She seemed like a nice kid. Why's she called the Thestral?"

"'Cos she might as well be invisible, and she's unlucky. The Slytherins call her that. They reckon she tells her dad what they get up to."

"And does she?"

"Buggered if I know. I only see her in a couple of classes. And prefects' meetings. She doesn't talk a lot."

"Shy?"

"Insane. Margie Leary reckons that her mum put a whole lot of charms on her, so Lilith'd be evil as well."

Harry thought of Lilith's cool, black eyes, so much like her mother's. But all he said was, "You shouldn't be so quick to judge people by their parents. Or by rumour."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, she got really mad when Margie said it to her face. Drew her wand, looked absolutely murderous. But Professor Travers caught her. I heard that she was almost suspended. But Margie reckons that Snape was more interested in expelling her." Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but he was distracted by the approach of his father.

"Steve! I hope you're not bothering Harry--"

"He's no bother, Percy," said Harry, "no bother at all."

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a cry from one of the children. "Steve, go and help your sisters."

"But, Dad-"

"Stephen. Now."

Steve slouched off with a scowl reminiscent of his youngest uncle. Percy gave Harry a _what-can-you-do_? look and wandered off to mediate a brawl between Fred and Angelina's Daniel and Charlie's twins, who were using teeth and nails to compensate for a five-year age disadvantage. Bill and Fleur were having a quiet but intense debate near the apple trees; they were about due for their third break-up. Arthur was happily interrogating Muggle-born Penny about the mobile phone, and Diane, the newest daughter-in-law, was looking completely lost amidst the chaos. In the centre of it all, Ron and Hermione were looking radiant and oblivious.

_One big, happy Weasley family. Ha._

Harry leaned, calculated all the possible ways that Dark wizards could attack the barbecue, and wondered when he could make his excuses and leave. 

***

Something about the French Defence Against Black Magic teacher made Snape's hackles rise. On the first day of the International Conference of Magical Educators, she had greeted him with a very small smile, and when Madam Maxime introduced them, murmured, "We've never met, of course, but we have a number of mutual friends, yes?" Her small smile had widened, and she'd gone on to flatter him about a paper he'd published last year, on the development of shields for the Arcane Curses. She complimented him on his research; she spoke intelligently about Potions, and all the while, her eyes sparkled at some private joke.

Snape didn't trust her at all.

"It is a pity," she said, at the beginning of the conference's second week, "that you never had the chance to forge a career as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I have the greatest respect for Albus Dumbledore, but I cannot help but feel that your talents were wasted teaching Potions."

"Dumbledore ... felt that my talents lay elsewhere. In time, I came to agree with him."

Truth be told, he had never craved the position as much as rumour suggested, but a well-known chink in his armour, an unfulfilled ambition -- these were convenient things for the world to believe in.

Or at least, they had been convenient twenty, thirty years ago.

"Such a waste," purred Dupont. "Your writing is quite extraordinary. I don't suppose I could persuade you to write a textbook, at least...?"

Snape permitted himself a smile. "Perhaps."

"And I hear you have a daughter, yes? Will _she_ take the position that has eluded you?"

"I hope not," said Snape sincerely. "Her talents and ambitions are literary. Teaching holds no glamour for her."

"Pity. I have heard," and now Dupont watched his face carefully, "that she would bring a number of special talents to the job."

Snape kept his face blank and murmured something neutral.

He knocked at Dupont's door late that night, carrying a rose, two glasses and a bottle of wine. She smiled, like a spider contemplating its prey. Or its mate.

He toasted her, drank, and said, "I had not expected to find someone like _you_ at this conference."

Dupont took a sip of her own drink and paused to savour the mouthful. "It took a great deal of work for the Dark Order to infiltrate Beauxbatons," she agreed, and froze. Ropes shot from Snape's wand and bound her, spilling her Veritaserum-laced drink on the carpet.

"How did you do this?" she demanded, "I saw you pour, I saw you drink-"

"The potion was in the glass, not the bottle," Snape snapped. "You pathetic amateur, I've had dozens of chances to poison you. Come to that, why didn't you take Inveritas? You could have avoided this whole business all together, if you weren't prancing about with your coy games and your vapid threats. Is this what the Order has come to, that it sends silly chits like you to deal with real wizards?"

"The Order will arise again \- we have plans - we have direction-"

"What plans?"

"I don't know -- there are only rumours..."

"As I expected. You know nothing." Snape pulled Dupont's hair, forcing her to look up at him. "Now. What is it you think you know about my daughter?

***

Snape threw a handful of powder into the fire and made a call. His friend Apparated to the hotel within minutes, taking in the scene with a sigh.

"Severus, what _have_ you been doing?"

"Your job. Wine?" 

Jean-Pierre regarded him cautiously. "I'd rather not. _Le Ministre_ frowns on its Aurors accepting drinks from master poisoners who have apparently engineered the _most_ extraordinary scenes."

"You weren't this paranoid the last time I saw you."

"Hazard of the job."

Snape settled himself in an armchair and said, "I'd hardly have called you here if I had something to hide."

"What if you wanted to quickly establish your story?"

"With the aid of a Wit-Weakening Potion?" Snape took a sip of the wine. 

"You could have prepared a poisoned glass in advance."

Snape smiled thinly. "Alcohol counteracts it. I see that Potions is as ill regarded at Beauxbatons as at Hogwarts. For Heaven's sake, Jean-Pierre, sit down."

Jean-Pierre slowly sank into the other armchair, looking at Dupont curiously. "Remind me never to join you on a double date." At Snape's sneer, he quickly added, "joke. What's her story?"

"She's a member of the Dark Order. Not a particularly competent one."

"I don't suppose you have any proof? Convenient tattoos, evil laundry marks, that sort of thing?"

"I'm sure she'd be delighted to share her background, given enough Veritaserum."

"No trace of which will appear in her body _now_ , of course."

"Of course not."

"Because _le Ministre de Sorcierie_ , like the Ministry of Magic, does object to lone Potions Masters handing out restricted potions like that."

"And I wouldn't want to upset _le Ministre_." Snape drained his wine, ensured that the empty vial which had contained the Veritaserum antagonist was concealed in his robes, and stood up. "I have business to attend to in the south. I may need assistance. I'd prefer to deal with you, not your colleagues."

"You have nothing to fear from an Auror, these days."

"Nevertheless."

"And you say _I'm_ paranoid."

"Just so."

Snape Disapparated, returning to his rooms. It had been a long time since he'd done this, becoming part of a hunt on a moment's notice. Many of his robes were too well-made to avoid notice; in the end, he Transfigured them into something more nondescript, and gathered his money. 

The letter to Lilith took only moments to write; he contemplated sending a note to Arabella, but thought better of it. She would insist on joining him, and that would mean bringing Lilith, and _that_ would be foolish beyond measure.

***

She didn't like to admit it, but Lilith had been badly frightened by the raid on her uncle's shop, and her encounter with Potter. She spent a week lurking at home, sitting up in her room, listening to music and perusing her father's library.

She received three owls in that time. One was from her father, letting her know that he'd be spending more time in Europe than originally planned. Another came from Roseleen Parkinson, and one was from Aunt Arabella, hinting that she could probably make the effort to travel two streets to visit her godmother. She scribbled dutiful replies to all of them, but made no mention of anything more significant than the last thing she'd eaten, or the book she was reading.

A week after the raid, she was roused from a daze, a half-dream of snakes and mud, a pregnant woman singing to her child in the rain, by the sound of someone - or something -- moving around downstairs. Silently, she grabbed her wand and slipped downstairs.

At Hogwarts, they called her the Thestral, because she could move silently, keeping to the shadows. Other Slytherins had learnt to speak cautiously, for one never knew when the Headmaster's daughter might be listening.

In her five years at school, she'd only repeated something to her father once, and that had saved a student's life.

But no one else knew that, and it suited Lilith to be feared.

She moved down the staircase, silent but for the pounding of blood in her ears.

Living room. Empty.

Kitchen. Empty.

Lilith paused, trying to remember whether the pile of books on the table had been there earlier. Her memory was useless, sometimes, especially after a migraine.

She moved on. Her father's study.

The door was ajar.

He never left the door open.

Never.

Almost afraid to breathe, Lilith moved forward and burst into the room. The door opened fully, knocking into a bookshelf with a loud bang.

Empty.

And now she'd let the intruder know that she was there.

Lilith froze and considered her options. Perhaps she could light a fire, Floo straight over to Aunt Arabella's... The little jar of Floo powder sat on the mantelpiece, gleaming in the moonlight. Lilith took a step towards it, and stopped.

Something invisible brushed past her, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. 

"W-who's there--?"

There was no answer, only a faint popping sound as the intruder Disapparated.

She couldn't move. For a second, she thought she'd been cursed, but then she was able to force her muscles to relax, and she collapsed on the floor in a shivering heap.

***

Arabella greeted Ron with a smile, a hug and a slice of inedible cake. Ron, remembering his year in her class, was instantly wary.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Ronald," she said, pouring him a cup of tea. "It's quite lonely for an old lady on her own..."

Ron couldn't find it in himself to be sympathetic; he knew perfectly well that Arabella ran a boarding house for young witches going to university in the Muggle world. Arabella was a wily old Auror, and she was at her most dangerous when she claimed to be feeling her age.

"Anything for my favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"What's young Remus got to do with this?"

Ron grinned. "Well, he's out of the country at the moment, so he doesn't need to know..." He pushed an inquisitive Kneazle away from his shoes. It was all very nice to be given the Felinoid Sniff of Approval, but he was _not_ a kitty toy, thank you-very-much. "What can I do for you, Professor?"

"Please, Ronald, it's Arabella. Or Mrs Figg, if you can't stand being on familiar terms with your old teacher." Professor - Arabella - Mrs Figg sat down carefully. "It's about my goddaughter, young Lilith. And our mutual friend Mr Potter."

"Um--"

"I notice that none of you young louts in the College bothered to inform me that you picked her up in Knockturn Alley last week, by the way. And I don't suppose Harry sent an owl to Severus, either."

"Probably not." Ron shifted. "Look, Harry dealt with Lilith, not me. Why aren't you talking to him?"

"Because _he_ still thinks I'm the Wicked Witch of Magnolia Crescent. _You_ , on the other hand, have a small ounce of common sense, not to mention a wife who manages to be sensible enough for all of you. Anyway, Severus and I are agreed that Lilith and Harry are -- not a good combination.

"Why not? Harry seems to like her. I haven't even met the kid."

"It's complicated, dear. And while I think you're a lovely boy, I doubt that Severus would want me sharing his personal matters with you."

"All right. But what about Lilith?"

"I just want to know, has Borgin said anything about her?"

"Not really. He told Harry to keep away, but that seems to be a popular theme. Why?"

Mrs Figg contemplated her tea and said quietly, "Someone entered Lilith's house the other night. Nothing was taken, no damage was done, but Lilith got enough of a fright that she came to me and admitted she'd been in Knockturn Alley. And Lilith's not the sort of girl who confesses her sins easily, Ronald. She's like her father in that."

"What do you want me to do? I could go over the scene, but it's more of a job for Magical Law Enforcement."

"No, no, I've done all that. I've also reinforced the wards and I'm keeping Lilith close by. I just wanted to make sure I haven't missed anything obvious in Borgin."

"Nothing that I can see. We've been looking into Burke's disappearance, but if he's alive, it looks like he's in Greece. And none of Borgin's other usual allies have involved themselves at all. It's all depressingly quiet." He sipped his tea. "Do you want a Coterie to investigate. It's not the usual thing, but for _you_ -"

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I can protect her myself, you know that."

"I don't doubt it."

"Anyway, it might be nothing. Just a nasty Slytherin prank."

"You don't believe that for a second, do you?"

"No. But I don't need any help, Ronald. I just wanted some information."

"Yeah, well, you got that. Thanks for the tea." 

Ron was about to Disapparate, when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned, and found himself face-to-face with Lilith Borgin herself.

_Bloody hell_ , he thought, sick to his stomach, _she looks just like her mother._

He had spent a month as Eugenia Lestrange's prisoner, seeing her every couple of days. She had haunted his nightmares for two years afterwards. Lilith had none of her beauty; indeed, she was the ugliest girl Ron had ever seen, all nose and limbs and jutting bones. But her cool, assessing eyes and oddly generous mouth: those were Eugenia's.

She studied him, leaning against the doorframe. Arabella gave Ron a worried look, but he ignored her and met Lilith's eyes.

"You must be Ron Weasley," she said.

"Must I?" He made no move to shake her hand. "Harry's told me about you."

Lilith's face was briefly transformed at the mention of Harry's name, opening up and becoming both younger and more mature.

_Got an admirer, have we, Mr Potter?_

"Please give him my regards," she said, her face closing up again.

"I'll do that."

She looked to Ron like a serpent contemplating a rat. _I'll bet he has to speak to her in Parseltongue_ , he thought. Something about her made his skin crawl, something beyond her history and heritage. He had no doubt that she was thoroughly steeped in the Dark Arts.

"Tell him," she said thoughtfully, "tell him I said hello."

"I will."

As he Disapparated, Ron heard her say, "Aunt Arabella, do you have any Analgesic Potion? I've got such a headache--"

_Yeah, serves her right._

Harry had always had migraines following direct encounters with Dark Magic. The kind of direct encounters where he was casting the curses himself.

_I reckon that Harry should be the last of Snape's worries_.


	4. Chapter 4

  
He often dreamt of Voldemort, especially in the summer months. He had once asked Hermione about it, and she suggested that it was close to the anniversary of Voldemort's rebirth in 1995, and that his subconscious was recalling the summer that followed, when he had ridden at Voldemort's side in his dream state, while the Dark Lord assembled his forces for the coming war. Harry had pointed out that he never dreamt of the Third Task, or of that summer, specifically, but changed the topic when Hermione suggested that he see a psychologist.

 _Post-traumatic stress disorder is nothing to be ashamed of_ , she had lectured to his retreating back. _And you have better reason than any of us._

That, he knew, was a lie, and her advice was hypocritical in the extreme. Hermione had been Lucius Malfoy's prisoner, and as far as Harry knew, had spoken of her experiences to only two people: Ron and Molly Weasley. Sciences of the mind weren't especially advanced in the wizarding world, and no one he knew cared to see a Muggle counsellor. Neville Longbottom wanted to that. But for now, he was just an apprentice mediwizard with an eccentric interest in Muggle psychiatry, whose connections and background had allowed him to run unusual research projects in the course of his apprenticeship.

Anyway, if Harry wanted to spill his guts, Neville wouldn't have been his choice of ... victim. Ginny, now, Ginny had known all his secrets, but then, she knew his dreams better than anyone. They had shared a bond, with each other, and with Voldemort.

Voldemort had claimed Ginny in the end.

Harry lay awake in the early hours of the morning, turning these thoughts over in his mind. He had dreamed of Snape, pouring blood into a cauldron from Tom Riddle's diary, while Lucius Malfoy held a knife to Hermione's throat and Eugenia Lestrange tore slivers of skin from Ron's face. Snape had been lecturing him on the uses of blood, pure and Muggle-born, in Dark potions, but everything had felt subtly askew, and it wasn't until after he'd woken up that he'd realised that Snape was speaking Parseltongue. And all the while, Voldemort skirted the edges of his awareness, seeking weaknesses, an entry into the waking world.

The room grew warmer as the sun rose, the temperature increasing far beyond the norm. Harry cast Cooling Charms and tried to get back to sleep, but that was impossible. The College of Aurors had it wrong, he decided; putting a Coterie on desk duty between arrest and trial would lead to death by inactivity, instead of protecting them from attack. He'd go mad, lying here in the heat, while his mind turned in pointless circles...

In the end, he grabbed his broom and went flying, far above London. The echoes of the dream faded, but the heat remained.

Two days later, the heatwave had worsened. The _Daily Prophet_ landed the scoop of the year when it published a series of confidential letters to the Minister of Magic, in which a team of unnamed weather wizards demanded the release of certain Azkaban prisoners in return for the resumption of normal weather patterns. 

Harry was only mildly surprised when he learnt that Hermione was co-ordinating the Ministry's response. The heat was accompanied by the sort of humidity that Harry associated with the hideous summer he'd spent in Singapore when he was 25, and almost overnight, the cost of Cooling Charms cast by Charms Masters tripled. 

Harry cast his charms himself, finding that they were strong enough that he didn't even need to change his usual mode of dress. Ron complained that seeing him wander around in long pants and worn sweatshirts was almost worse than the heat itself.

With Borgin's case stalled until his Inveritas Potion wore off - or until one of the College's resident Potions Brewers found the antidote that had eluded modern wizardry for centuries - the First Coterie had a lot of time on their hands. Harry spent long hours sparring with his colleagues in the College gymnasiums, practising the difficult co-ordination of movement-enhancing spells with the movement itself. Sore and exhausted - for his sleep remained disturbed - he escaped into Diagon Alley one Monday, muttering vague excuses about necessary errands. He wasn't the only one; Michael had gone to Brighton, citing family duties, and Marion was visiting a certain magical library in the Cotswolds, seeking an obscure cross-reference for the evidence against Borgin.

Even with the heatwave, the Alley was crowded. Florean Fortescue was offering discounted ice cream to anyone who could bolster his Cooling Charms; that elderly wizard could no longer maintain long-term spells on his own. Harry's charms earned him a boysenberry swirl and a grateful handshake. He managed to escape before the crowd at large caught a glimpse of his scar. In safe obscurity, he made his way through the Alley, finishing his ice cream and remembering summer shopping trips of his adolescence. The people around him moved with a sense of security that had been missing in his last years of schooling. Even with the threat of magical ecological terrorism (as the _Prophet_ termed it, and he knew _exactly_ which Muggle-born journalist was responsible for that phrase, thank you, Colin Creevey), there was laughter and open movement in the streets. Harry's Auror-instincts twitched, but he forced himself to relax. He'd bought this safety, had paid for it in blood.

Now, he should enjoy it.

"'Arry!"

Harry swung around at the familiar voice. Heads turned as others recognised the tall, beautiful blond woman, and the man she was addressing.

"It's him," he heard someone say, "Harry Potter!"

"Where?"

"Over there - the scruffy little fellow in Muggle clothes."

"That's him? He looks so -- weedy."

"Sorry about that," said Gabrielle as she finally pushed through the crowd.

"It's okay," he said. "But let's go inside." He grinned, with only a touch of bitterness, "unless you don't want to be seen disappearing into a private corner with Harry Potter."

"Harry, if I didn't want to be seen with you, then I wouldn't have called out." In a normal speaking voice, her French accent was almost unnoticeable, a result of the three years she'd spent at Hogwarts, and her years in England since she got married. 

"It's not so much you," he said as he steered her down a small alley, "as your husband."

"What about him? And where are you taking me, anyway?"

"I know a place."

The Gryphon had a tendency to move around, but it was currently situated in what Harry suspected was an old cellar. Not that it was obvious; the interior decorations remained the same regardless of location. According to Sirius, the polished cherry tables and dark-red stained glass windows had been there since the dawn of time; 1975 at least.

Gabrielle wrinkled her perfect nose as Harry drew his wand and pointed it at a pile of garbage, but she smiled when the garbage resolved into a doorway, and Harry led her into the small club.

"I've never been here," she said. 

"No, you wouldn't have. It's for Gryffindors only -- and their guests, of course."

"It's lovely."

Despite himself, Harry was gratified to hear this praise from the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. He'd never had any romantic interest in Gabrielle -- he'd known her since she was eight, after all -- but unlike many, he respected her.

"Private, too," he said. "Journalists have to turn their quills in at the door."

"Harry..."

He shook his head. "Don't try to apologise for him, Gabrielle. That's not your job." He examined the menu that had appeared on the table. "You should try the fish--"

"Harry." Her voice was very firm. "If you don't want to discuss Draco, then don't bring him up."

"I just wondered if this would create problems for you, meeting me in public like this."

"As opposed to meeting me in private?" If her sister's laugh was silvery and delicate, then Gabrielle's was a low, golden chuckle. "Draco would never allow anything that reflected badly on him to be published."

"That's ... not precisely what I meant."

A house elf appeared by their sides, wearing the neat red and gold livery (it clashed with his socks, which were an unfortunate shade of mauve, but Harry knew better than to criticise a house elf's clothing) of the Gryphon.

"Is sir and madam ready to order?" it asked.

They ordered quickly: the fish and a Gillywater for Harry, spiced milk for Gabrielle.

"Interesting choice," Harry said.

"I'm pregnant."

"Ah."

Their drinks arrived; Harry took a gulp of his. Gabrielle smiled slightly and sipped her milk.

"Does he know?"

"Of course."

"And..."

She rotated her glass between her fingers, and Harry was reminded of Lilith Borgin. _Children_ , he thought, _procreation, futures, offspring... Good God,_ Malfoy _is going to be a father._

"He's pleased," she said finally. "And proud ... he wants to do better than his own father. He's ... taking a great deal of interest." She smiled ruefully. "I liked it better when we largely ignored each other."

"Proud papa Draco."

"Don't laugh. He might be a good father. He's not a bad husband, you know."

"Just a bad person."

"Harry..."

He leaned back in his chair. "I never wanted you to marry him, Gabrielle, you know that."

She smiled slightly. "You were most insistent on the subject, yes. I was really afraid you were going to embarrass me at the wedding."

He snorted; only Ginny's restraining influence had kept him from sweeping the bride-to-be out and locking her in an attic until she came to her senses. "I don't like him. I don't trust him. And I _truly_ don't want my friends to end up married to him."

Their food appeared, and they ate in silence for several minutes. 

"Are you happy?" Harry asked.

"In my marriage, or about my pregnancy?"

"Don't they come together?"

Gabrielle giggled. "You're very sweet, Harry. I've never met a naïve Auror before." With a pang, Harry remembered the angelic, delicate child he'd once known. There was no strain in her Veela-perfect face, but her laugh was suddenly brittle.

So. Another thing Malfoy had damaged.

"I have to admit," said Gabrielle softly, "I find myself hoping that the baby will ... improve things."

"What's he doing?" asked Harry. "If it's Dark, I can try to -- hell, we've had Borgin in custody for nearly three weeks, haven't we? Why can't we try Malfoy?"

"Harry. There are no Dark Arts involved here. Amazing as it may seem, a marriage can fail without the involvement of Dark magic." She shrugged. "We're just different people ... I was so young when I married him, and I thought that ... some things didn't matter."

"Like the fact that your husband's a manipulative arsehole?"

"Like the fact that I was marrying him for all the wrong reasons." She sighed. "I loved him ... I still do love him. And I know you don't believe it, but he does love me."

Harry snorted.

The conversation turned towards lighter topics: the grand transcontinental romance of Bill and Fleur (whose latest break-up had taken place only six days ago, in the wake of the family barbecue; the twins were taking bets on the likely duration), Harry's upcoming birthday (Ron and Hermione were planning a surprise birthday party; Harry was busy preparing to act surprised) and names for the baby. (No, Gabrielle did not think it would be a good idea to name it after Harry. Or Hermione. Or any Weasleys.)

"Listen," Harry said as they made their way back towards Diagon Alley proper, "I know what Malfoy marriage contracts are like. If you want to get out, and you can't--"

Gabrielle touched his arm and said, "I appreciate the offer, but ... look, you can't save everyone, alright? And not everyone needs saving."

"What do you mean, save everyone?"

"Just that you think it's your duty to run around rescuing everyone around you."

"That's not true."

"If you say so." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but she went on, "Draco wouldn't invoke the contracts. He loves me."

"People can fall out of love." _You certainly have_ , he didn't say. 

"Harry. The Delacours are one of the most powerful families in France, and we are Veela. Not full Veela, but \-- we stand by each other. Draco won't invoke the contracts."

It might have been a trick of the light, but suddenly, her face seemed oddly avian and dangerous, and Harry reluctantly remembered that Gabrielle Delacour Malfoy wasn't completely human.

They made a striking pair as they pushed through the Diagon Alley crowds: the Boy Who Lived and a quarter-Veela. Harry ignored the gasps and avoided making eye contact, until he spotted a pair of familiar figures. 

"Have you met Professor Snape's daughter?" he asked impulsively.

"The Dementor Baby? No."

"Well don't call her that," he mumbled as he pulled Gabrielle towards Lilith and Mrs Figg. He introduced everyone properly, only stumbling over Mrs Figg's title. She'd been _Professor_ Figg as well, after all, and as nasty a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as he'd ever had. Oddly enough, that was what had led him to trust her: everyone else, from Quirrell to 'Moody', had gone out of their way to be nice to him, and only Remus Lupin had been genuine.

Still, trustworthy or not, Mrs Figg had never been a friend to Harry. Oh no, she'd been right along Snape whenever he was calling for Harry's expulsion, and now she was raising his daughter. Charming, the way these Slytherins stuck together...

"I'm surprised to see you out here, Potter," she said now. "What on earth do they teach Aurors these days?"

" _You're_ out here."

"I'm retired. Whereas _you_ are a target for every Dark wizard who wants to make a name for himself."

"No one is going to attack me," Harry said, and turned to Lilith.

As if on cue, the world exploded, and whatever Mrs Figg was going to say was lost in the screams. Harry managed to throw Lilith away from the centre of the blast. Then everything went dark, and he collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

Though blinded - temporarily, he hoped - Harry climbed to his feet. "Lilith? Gabrielle?" he called over the screams around them, "are you okay?" Belatedly, he added, "Mrs Figg?"

Gabrielle replied in French; her wand touched his hand, and his sight returned. Around them, witches and wizards were crumpled on the ground, some sobbing, some moaning in pain and fear. Blood was pouring from noses and ears, and Harry realised that his own face was slick. He wiped the blood from his nose, cast a protective charm over Gabrielle, and looked around.

They had been standing within a few metres of the centre of the attack, which had thrown them several feet away. The atmosphere was still bright, charged with magic, small green particles hanging in the air. They were like miniature fireworks, very painful to the skin. Harry's lunch churned in his stomach, but he forced himself to keep moving.

"Coerceo Curse," he remembered Alastor Moody telling him in the horrible hours after the attack on Hogsmeade. "Sucks all the magic out of an area, and then returns it explosively. Just like a Muggle bomb."

Someone clutched his arm, dragging him back to the present. "Please," the witch moaned, "it's not You-Know-Who back, is it? Not again."

"Not again," Harry promised grimly.

There was nothing left in the centre of the blast area, just an empty space that made Harry's skin crawl. The air felt dead here, and he was careful not to enter the perfect circle that the curse had created.

Around him, Aurors, medics and journalists were Apparating.

"Harry!" Ron called, "you okay?"

"Yeah. Vision's a bit strange, and my sinuses are going to explode."

"Mr Potter!" cried a journalist, "did you have any warning of the attack? Is that why you were in Diagon Alley?"

"Of course not! I was having lunch with an old friend." Harry glanced behind him, where Gabrielle was helping with the wounded.

"Ah. And what is your relationship with Mrs Malfoy?"

"They're just good friends," drawled a cool voice. The journalist flinched under Draco Malfoy's icy stare. Malfoy sneered at Harry. "Go off and find a real story, O'Connor. Potter's not news - he just has this knack of appearing at the scene of a disaster."

The journalist made herself scarce.

"And what are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" asked Harry. Ron placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"Making sure that my wife is all right. You understand, I'm sure. Not that you did a particularly good job with-"

Harry was ready to draw his wand and curse Malfoy into the ground, when Ron said, "Harry. Mrs Figg - over there."

They made their way across the ruined Alley. Ron dropped to his knees beside Mrs Figg, taking her hand and looking pale. The indomitable old woman was unconscious, and she looked every minute of her eighty-seven years.

A couple of feet away from Mrs Figg, Lilith Borgin lay, staring at Harry through a curtain of bloody hair. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Medic!" Harry called, "we've got two more wounded over here!"

The medics were all busy, but Gabrielle came over. Malfoy watched her work, an oddly tender expression on his face.

"Mrs Figg is too badly hurt," said Gabrielle, "I don't know what to do."

"Out of the way," ordered a mediwitch, pushing past Ron and Harry. "I need to get this one to St Mungo's. Alverson-" she waved at a colleague-"get that girl to hospital. Courceo Shock. Nasty case."

Harry was swaying on his feet as the doctors took Lilith and Mrs Figg away. Gabrielle was in Draco's arms, smearing blood all over his expensive robes as she silently wept. Harry looked away.

"Harry," said Ron softly, "you should get to hospital, too. You look pretty bad."

"The blood? It's just my nose."

"Yeah, and about thirty Courceo Burns. Go. We can take it from here." When Harry hesitated, Ron added, "for God's sake, go. Unless you think that a few new curse scars would help track down whoever did this."

Malfoy softly snorted as he Disapparated.

"Fine," Harry said. "And thanks. For not letting me stir anything up with Malfoy."

"I'm just getting dull in my old age. Now go, Harry, for God's sake-"

Harry Disapparated.

***

By virtue of his identity, and the rather shocking amount of blood on his face and clothes, Harry was treated quickly, and then dismissed to lurk in the halls. In the confusion of the emergency room, he was unable to find Lilith, and he was wondering what to do next when he heard a familiar voice. 

"Harry!"

"Neville!"

"If you're here about Professor \- I mean Mrs Figg, she's still unconscious," said Neville, adjusting his neat business robes, which had evidently been charmed to conceal bloodstains. 

"And Lilith? The girl with her?"

"Sleeping."

"When will she wake up?"

"A couple of hours, probably. She wasn't badly hurt."

"And Mrs Figg?"

"Her injuries were a little more severe. She'll be in here for a couple of weeks. I wouldn't normally be dealing with emergencies. Technically, I'm still an apprentice medi-wizard, Muggle degrees not counting for much around here," Neville continued as they moved down the corridor, "but there were so many casualties -- I haven't seen anything like this for years."

"It was pretty ugly on the scene, too. And look, if you could make sure there are guards around Mrs Figg and Lilith, I'd appreciate it."

Neville frowned. "I don't have that kind of authority, Harry. Is that a request as a witness, an Auror, or as the Boy Who Lived?"

"All at once. They were closest to the centre of the blast, and Arabella's made a lot of enemies."

Neville's mouth tightened as he asked, "What about the Snape girl?"

Harry shrugged. "Instinct." He felt a wave of anger as he recalled her broken, bleeding body in the centre of the carnage. She was an innocent, a bystander, a _victim_. She was as much a victim of the war as Harry's parents, or Neville's. The thought that someone might seek revenge for her parents' sins through her was sickening. 

"Listen," he said, "is there any place I can wait around for Lilith to wake up?"

"May I offer you the hospitality of our refectory? The house elves make the worst food in Britain, but there's a startling array of caffeinated drinks and energizing potions."

Harry suddenly had a better idea. "How are your parents these days?"

Neville grinned properly for the first time. "Pretty good. They've recovered most of their adult memories, and are looking at a permanent discharge some time in the next few months."

Harry whistled. "You've done amazing work, Neville."

"I don't know -- I wish I could have done it faster, or sooner..."

"Nah. If the wizarding world gave out Orders of Merlin for medical magic, you'd definitely be up for something. Come to think of it, I might propose it to Hermione. She'd approve of an award for research."

"Yeah, but she'd win it herself. So, you want to visit my parents?"

"Will that be okay?"

"They'd love it," said Neville confidently. 

***

Frank Longbottom had once been a large, powerful man, but thirty years of hospitalisation had left him pale and puffy. He was lying on top of a comfortable-looking bed, wearing neat hospital robes and examining a book.

Harry had seen the Longbottoms several times, both before and after Neville and his colleagues had finally begun to heal them. This was the first time that Frank had looked up at him with recognition in his eyes.

"James - no, that's impossible, isn't it." His voice was very soft, and a touch uncertain. 

"Harry."

"Yes, James and Lily's little boy -- I think you've seen me before?"

"A couple of times." Harry took a seat beside the bed as Frank sat up. "It's good to finally meet you properly, sir."

"Frank, please." He indicated the book in his lap; it was _The Voldemort Years_ , one of the more reputable books on the subject. "They tell me you're an Auror, now."

"I am, yeah. Since I was about twenty-two."

Frank smiled. "I joined the College straight out of school -- Voldemort was rising, and I wanted to help - wanted to be one of the elites."

"That's ... admirable," said Harry, although he wasn't sure if that was the response Frank wanted, if he wanted a response at all.

"That was pride, Harry. Sheer, damnable pride." Frank shook his head. "I paid the price for it, in the end -- I just wish that they'd left my Alice alone."

"I don't think you can hold yourself responsible-"

"You must have been taught by Snape, like Neville," said Frank suddenly.

"Er - yeah, I was." Harry grinned. "We used to compete for lowest marks in Potions, before-" Harry floundered a bit - "you know, the Memory Charms were broken. Neville melted more cauldrons, but Snape hated me more."

"I knew him, at school. Snape. And the Lestranges ... Rosier. Wilkes. And your parents, and their friends. They were younger than me, but I knew them."

"I know. Sirius told me."

"When I was an Auror ... I don't have all of my memories back, you know, but some things are so _clear_ \-- I've remembered them for years. We were given a lot of latitude, we Aurors."

"I know." Harry had a nasty suspicion that he knew where this was going, and he desperately wished that he'd braved the bad food in the refectory, or volunteered to clean bedpans, or simply moved to China as soon as school was over.

"We captured Snape -- ooh, eight months before Voldemort fell. We knew he was a Death Eater; he never even bothered to deny it. But we needed names, so we -- he spent four days in Azkaban, and everyday, my Coterie visited him. We formed the Circle, and we took turns -- we took turns--" He stopped, swallowing.

"I understand," Harry said.

"No, I don't think you do. It was allowed, you see, because sacrifices had to be made -- I felt a bit of a hero, really, giving up my soul for the benefit of society. Snape -- was not the first.

"He lasted the first day, but by the second, he was telling us -- all sorts of things. That he was working for Dumbledore, and he'd already given the names, and there were other forces at work -- he said that Dumbledore had a plan.

"We thought he was lying.

"By the third day, he was giving us names, but he kept telling us to ask Dumbledore. Me -- it was _me_ he was talking to. He knew me, after all.

"And by the fourth day, he wasn't even coherent."

"What happened, sir?"

"He was so consistent -- my Coterie disagreed, but I kept wondering - if it was a lie, surely he would have changed his tune by now.

"And if it was the truth..." Frank shuddered. "I went to see Dumbledore. And I'd barely had a chance to say, 'We captured Severus Snape, and he keeps telling us to speak to you--' Did you ever see Dumbledore when he was angry, Harry? _Really_ angry?"

"Three times."

"I'll never forget it. He said nothing -- nothing at all. Just picked up his wand, stood up, and gestured for me to follow him. I followed him down to the school gates, and we Apparated to the docks, where the boats to Azkaban left. He stood at the prow of the boat, in the wind and the rain -- I was cold, and I wanted to go inside, but I was scared to leave his side.

"We were both soaking when we reached Azkaban, and cold. His robes were ruined. He walked through the corridors in silence, and I followed him -- there were Dementors all around us.

"He threw Snape's cell door open -- I've never found out how; those locks are supposed to be unbreakable. But then, Dumbledore was more powerful than Voldemort in those days. He walked into Snape's cell, and knelt down beside him - Snape was barely twenty-one, you know - and hugged the greasy brat like a son.

"I've never forgotten that. Not in thirty years."

Harry licked his dry lips. "You did the right thing in the end, sir."  


"Small consolation." Frank smiled grimly. "The Lestranges knew about it, of course. That's ... that's why they chose me." He touched Harry's arm. "I've never told anyone this, Harry. Not even Alice. Or Neville..." 

"I won't tell anyone, sir." 

"Thank you." 

Frank settled back on his pillows, visibly exhausted. "I suppose everyone tells you that you're like your dad." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, it's true. But there's something of your mother about you, too. You could tell Lily anything." 

Personally, Harry suspected it had more to do with his fame, and people's desire to get close to it by sharing their private lives with him.  
Ginny, now, she had been someone you could confide in: reserved, non-judgemental, trustworthy.

Perhaps something of that gift had rubbed off on him. He could think of worse heirlooms. Harry's throat was tight as he said, "Thank you, sir."

Harry escaped from Frank as quickly as possible, feeling sick to his stomach. _Aren't we the great hero, Potter? You follow in the footsteps of petty torturers. What a fine heritage, what a fine way to repay your parents' sacrifice._

He was pleased to see a guard outside Lilith's room, a young man wearing Magical Law Enforcement robes. He jumped to attention when he saw Harry.

"Sir," he said, beaming. "This area is secure. Sir."

"Good work," Harry murmured. "Is there a doctor around?"

"Down there, Sir."

The doctor was a man of middle years. He wore a Muggle-style lab coat over his robes; it contrasted oddly with his bright orange wizard's hat. 

"Mr Potter," he said, speaking softly and rapidly, "am I to understand that you are taking responsibility for the young woman in Ward Three?"

"Um -- sure, why not? Until you get a hold of her father, anyway."

"Yes, Doctor Longbottom explained who she was. But Professor Snape cannot be reached, sir."

"Can't be reached? What, can't you owl him? He was supposed to be back on Friday."

"The owl we sent circled the hospital and then returned. We contacted Professor Vector, since she is his Deputy, but she said that he left the Conference in France on Monday, and that he would be returning to England late."

"And he's made himself un-findable?" Aside from his daughter, Snape had no family that Harry knew of. But the Death Eaters had been closer than family, and the Ministry had always suspected that more than a few were keeping a low profile in Europe. _And it would be just like Snape to go hunting, instead of calling out the cavalry_. "Look, I have an idea where Snape is. The second he's contactable, I'll make sure he hears of this. Until then, yeah, I'll take responsibility for Lilith."

"Thank you, sir. Her injuries were not severe - we will release her tomorrow morning. Mrs Figg, I fear, will remain with us for at least a fortnight."

"Will she recover?"

"She is an Auror, Mr Potter, or at least, she was. We have seen a great deal of Mrs Figg over the years." With a very small flicker of humour, the doctor said, "I predict that she will be making unreasonable demands of her doctors and herself within ten days."

"I'm glad to hear that." And he was, he realised, despite his ambiguous relationship with the old woman. "Can I see her?"

"Not yet."

"What about Lilith?"

"Miss Borgin will be unconscious for several hours. But you may sit with her, if you wish."

"Thanks."

Harry returned to the darkened room, telling the young guard to grab something to eat. He ignored the hospital chairs and conjured something more comfortable, glad of the peace.

The attack had been deliberate and targeted, he decided. But not necessarily planned in advance; the Coerceo Curse needed only an hour of preparation before it could be fatal. Such things depended on the strength of the caster, of course. Harry mentally ticked off a list of witches and wizards who could have cast the curse at that strength on a moment's notice. Himself, definitely. Possibly Sirius, Hermione, Snape. Minister Leach. Tenebreas Lux. Draco Malfoy, perhaps. 

His mind paused at that; Malfoy _had_ appeared on the scene rather quickly. He certainly hated Harry, and had no love for Arabella or Snape. But no, this wasn't Malfoy's style. He dealt in shadows and subtleties. And he hadn't been associated with a direct attack since the Fall of Voldemort. Harry suspected that he'd arranged certain other incidents over the years, but he had no proof, nothing more solid than a schoolboy grudge, festered and swollen.

But no, the attack probably hadn't been impulsive. Someone had seen him - or Lilith, or Arabella - on the street, and gambled that they'd still be present when the Curse was ready to be completed.

_I hope Enid remembers to have someone check the vantage points._

Lord, he was tired. And angry, and sore. He leaned back and watched Lilith sleep. Her face was open and relaxed, framed by messy black hair. She looked like a sculpture, the work of an eccentric, but highly skilled artist. The prominence of her nose normally cancelled the effect of her long, full mouth, but now Harry was free to stare. 

She was not beautiful, he decided, but she was compelling. One day, perhaps, she would be extraordinary, with a grace and power that made mere prettiness seem tawdry and artificial. Now that she was still, masking her adolescent clumsiness, he could see the woman she would become. 

_Someone should show her the records of her mother. Teach her how to walk and hold herself._

It was a stupid thought. Eugenia was the last person Lilith should choose as a role model. Better that she follow in her father's footsteps.

Harry shook his head. She was only fifteen. She had plenty of time to achieve maturity. And he had no right to assess her as if she were a woman grown.

_Bit early for a mid-life crisis, Potter._

Something stirred at the doorway. Harry looked up, thinking that the guard had returned, but there was no one there. He rose from his chair to check the corridor, which was completely deserted. There was a whisper of air in the ward, a rustle of paper and the swish of an Invisibility Cloak. Harry grabbed his wand, but the intruder Disapparated with a pop, leaving a piece of parchment on his chair.

_Not everything is about you, Potter, the note read, Severus Snape has many enemies and one daughter. You complete the equation._


	7. Girl Most Likely

 

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Girl Most Likely

**Girl Most Likely**   
by LizBee 

 

 

**Act Three**

  
**Chapter Twelve**

 

Everything came to a halt as Snape advanced into the room. Remus followed; he smiled at Harry, who did not return it.

"Lilith," Snape said quietly, "wait for me in my office."

" Father-"

Snape waved a hand, and the door to his office opened. "Now," he breathed. Lilith reluctantly obeyed, casting a worried look behind her at Harry. 

"Potter," said Snape, "kindly take yourself and your entourage, and leave my home."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Professor. We have a duty to protect-"

"As far as I'm aware, this is an unprecedented occasion - the College of Aurors taking responsibility for the safety of one insignificant individual. Under magical law, I am responsible for my daughter's actions and safety. And I neither want nor need your assistance."

"Severus." Enid paused at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene below. Harry was amazed to see Snape's face soften as she descended. "This is a serious enterprise. I would hardly commit my people to a frivolous or unnecessary operation."

"Then this is your affair, Enid? I was under the impression that this - protection - was being conducted under Potter's auspices."

Enid and Harry exchanged a look as Enid said, "It's a collaborative exercise."

"Really." Snape drew a newspaper from under his arm. Harry recognised the masthead of Wizard! before he identified his own face, possibly because his photographic self was busy shoving his tongue down the throat of a dark-haired girl who might have been Lilith. Harry snatched the tabloid from Snape's hand; his doppelganger had the decency to wither beneath his glare.

"Polyjuice journalism," he said in disgust.

"So why don't you take yourself off and prepare a lawsuit," Snape suggested, "or add it to your collection, or whatever it is you plan to do, and leave my house?"

"I have a job here," Harry said, skipping the article and going straight to the classifieds. "And if that means associating with you, then I suppose I'll just have to grit my teeth and bear it." The classifieds were filled with the usual drivel, but Harry could find nothing relevant to the case at first glance. He would turn it over to a College analyst later.

"Don't send him away," said Lilith, lingering in the doorway. "I don't care about the others. But I trust Harry." 

This statement only made Snape regard Harry with more distaste than ever. He turned on his heel and swept into his office, gently pushing Lilith inwards and closing the door.

Harry silently handed the newspaper to Enid, who examined it with a frown. Hermione stood up.

"I need to get going. I have work to do at the Ministry."

"Coward," mumbled Ron.

"I know. Don't you wish you had that excuse?"

"Desperately." She kissed him on the cheek, waved to Lupin and Disapparated.

Harry leaned against a wall and contemplated all sorts of tortures for tabloid journalists. Starting with a friendly letter from his solicitors, and ending with something intricate involving thumbscrews, rusty safety-pins and ginger beer.

A resounding silence came from Snape's office.

Harry mentally substituted raspberry lemonade for ginger beer.

"How was Europe?" Ron asked Lupin. 

"Fascinating. I learnt a great deal, being able to travel freely. I confess, I'm not looking forward to living under the restrictions here - but Europe is on the verge of becoming even worse. If I must have my movements controlled by a hostile government, I'd prefer it to be in my own country."

"How did you get your Potion in Europe?" Ron asked.

"It's sold rather more freely than in England. Though I found myself stealing a cauldron-ful, on one memorable occasion."

Harry stared at the wall.

Enid said, "Borgin's Inveritas will wear off tonight. Midnight, according to Thistlewight."

"We should have a party," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, "a real celebration."

He wondered what Borgin would reveal once dosed with Veritaserum, and how much it would affect him.

Lost your temper the other day, eh Potter?

Could have been worse.

Is that going to be your excuse from now on, then?

Lilith's voice rose in anger in Snape's office, and something heavy thudded against a wall.

"Book," Ron guessed.

"The Rise of the Dark Order," Enid suggested.

"Darkness Over Europe, volume three," said Harry.

Glass smashed. Enid winced. "Sextant."

The door was wrenched open, and Snape stalked out, casting Reparo over his shoulder.

"Enid, I want a word."

"Of course," said Enid. Lilith emerged from the study as they entered, slipping past her father without making eye contact. She slumped onto the couch, drew her knees up to her chin and began biting her nails. To Harry's surprise, Ron gave her a grin.

"Did anyone ever tell you about the time your dad caught Harry sneaking down to Hogsmeade in his Invisibility Cloak?"

Lupin smiled slightly and said, "Let's not mislead her. He caught Harry just as he returned to the school."

"Anyway, Malfoy snitched on me," Harry muttered.

"What happened," asked Lilith without looking up from her hands.

"Malfoy reckoned that a disembodied head was throwing mud at him outside the Shrieking Shack." Harry snickered at the memory. "For some reason, he and the Professor seemed to think I was involved."

"You had no right to be away from school grounds," Lupin said softly.

"I know, I know." Harry grimaced. "I still remember the lecture you gave me."

A hint of a smile touched Lupin's eyes. "I'm very pleased to hear that."

Harry bared his teeth in something like a grin.

"You look well, Lilith," said Lupin, "Under the circumstances."

She didn't look at him. "Did you expect to find me tied to a rock, then, waiting for the monster while the Gryffindors threw a party?"

"Nothing so melodramatic. Though I gather your father is planning to lock you in an attic somewhere."

She gave him a look that Harry interpreted as, you're not my ally, no matter how friendly you seem now.

"I actually meant," Lupin added, "that you've grown since I saw you."

"Hmm," Lilith said neutrally.

Leaving Ron to deal with her, Harry led Lupin into the dining room.

"Thanks for retrieving Snape for us," he said, "even if your timing is lousy. Tough job?"

"Somewhat. The hardest part was in not tipping him off that I was searching. Still, with all the Dark wizards on the hunt, I blended into the crowd." Lupin frowned. "Look, don't let Severus scare you away from this."

"Not bloody likely."

"Good. He won't give me a reason for wanting you off the case, so I'm going to assume that it's nothing more than his famous ability to hold a grudge. And he's managed to earn the enmity of the entire Dark Order. Sooner or later, they'll send someone he can't deal with."

"If they haven't killed him yet, then they probably want something." Harry stared at the bookshelves on the far wall. "He was one of their best, once. Even after he turned on Voldemort, they still held out hope that he'd return to the Order. And if we discount Borgin's words - I guess we'll know tonight - no one would complain if he brought Lilith along for the ride."

"That will never happen. Whatever Snape's allegiances, he's fanatical about keeping Lilith free of it."

"I've noticed. And I don't blame him � the Dark Arts are incredibly addictive even with the pain that goes into learning them. Lilith already has a predisposition - has been half-trained by two of the most dangerous Dark wizards in the country. I wouldn't want to encourage it."

Lupin frowned. "Borgin has taught her, then?"

"Started lessons the same summer you quit. Which, you'll notice, she hasn't yet forgiven you for."

"Forgiveness is not in that family, Harry. Haven't you realised that by now?" Lupin walked out and retrieved his bag from the Apparition parlour. "I'm off - I should see Sirius, among others. Ron, Lilith, it was good to see both of you again. Give my regards to Hermione, Ron." 

Ron leapt up to say goodbye as Lupin Floo'd out, but Lilith just curled herself into a tighter ball. Harry sat down beside her.

"It's not fair," she said softly, "he hates me. He's always hated me."

She wasn't talking about Lupin. Harry patted her shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to offer reassurances he didn't quite believe.

***

"I want Potter out of my house."

"It's nice to see you again too, Severus," said Enid.

"He has no place in this investigation."

"On the contrary, until Saturday, he was in charge of this investigation. I was dealing with Borgin."

"You're in charge now. Remove him."

Enid sat down, looking perfectly at ease in his space. "No. We're violating quite a few rules with this affair, and Potter's name has enough authority that no one actually cares."

"Typical."

"Not completely. I think Lux is hoping that this will mark a return to form for Potter. Anyway, Harry's not doing a bad job, considering that this is his first extended period in a position of authority."

Snape permitted himself a small smile. "You're an appalling liar, Zabini."

"Only because you've known me too long. Potter is annoying, high handed and - and strange at the moment. But he's saved Lilith twice already, and she trusts him." Enid became serious. "And you can't tell me that she trusts easily."

"No. I can't."

"Let Harry stay. He's the best person for this job. He's already surmised that Lilith is under a Memory charm."

"He is the very worst person. And a Memory charm should be the least of your concerns where Borgin is concerned."

"You owe him a great deal. Your daughter's life, for one thing. You can't possibly tell me you wouldn't like to see her uncle in Azkaban, safely away from her. Isn't that worth the trauma of undoing a Memory charm?"

Easy for her to say that, he thought sourly. She had no children, had worked hard to avoid that sort of entanglement. As for Potter� 

Another Potter, another debt. Into eternity. Is there no escaping that family?

Enid's gaze was steady. "It is my professional opinion that unless the situation changes, Harry should remain on this case. If only because he is the only one of us who can have a civil conversation with Lilith." It was on the tip of Snape's tongue to point out that Lilith's comfort was a secondary concern to her safety, but he said nothing. Apparently feeling that the conversation was resolved, Enid leaned back and said, "How was France?"

"Dangerous. I � you should know that I encountered a former Death Eater in France. Went hunting for him, in fact."

"Why?"

"He'd been privy to some � events in the last months of Voldemort's life. Which he has shared with the Dark Order."

"What was the information?"

"Personal." Enid raised her eyebrows. "It related to some of Eugenia's � activities, before Lilith was born." Enid looked unsatisfied; to change the subject he said, "how have you been?"

Her smile was perfectly measured. "Fine. Thank you. I must admit, spending time with Lilith was � instructive. Provided a great insight into your character." Something he couldn't identify flashed in her eyes, quickly concealed. He did not speak, and after a moment she said, "Well, you'll be wanting all the particulars about this case�"

***

Potter cooked again. Lilith found him peeling potatoes by hand, as Ron and Enid showed her father the wards around the house and neighbourhood.

"You're a man of many talents, then," she said. "Thoroughly domesticated."

"My aunt made me cook a lot when I was growing up. It's soothing."

"Slave labour. Lucky you." Lilith played with a bit of potato peel. "The books always make it sound glamorous. A Gryffindor princeling in hiding."

Potter snorted. "Hardly that. I didn't even have a bedroom until I was eleven. You at least have a father who is alive and, um, concerned about you."

Lilith sighed. "My comments this morning notwithstanding, I think I'd prefer it if he cared about me from France."

Harry didn't bother arguing.

Over dinner, Enid said, "Severus, I want to assign you a guard. The Dark Order will have to keep a lower profile in England, but sooner or later they'll strike."

Lilith expected him to argue, but he merely took a sip of wine and said, "Whom do you have in mind?"

"I'll do it myself, as far as I'm able. Other than that, I'll talk to Lisa and Michael." She glanced at Harry and Ron, who gave her cheerful what, you don't want us? looks. "You two should pay more attention to your paperwork, if you don't mind."

"Hey, I'm up to date," Weasley protested. 

"And I copy off him," Potter added.

"Just like Divination."

"Wonderful," said Snape, "the nation can sleep soundly at night, knowing that it has you two to protect it. Speaking of which," he turned to Enid, "I want to be there when you interrogate Borgin tonight."

"No," Lilith said without thinking. Her father pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, What are you trying to hide? "If you can go, then I should. He's my uncle." Defiantly she added, "anyway, the entire Coterie is supposed to be present for an interrogation, right? You can hardly leave me at home."

Enid began, "We were planning to leave you with the Second Coterie-" Harry cut her off.

"Let her come." He met Snape's eyes. "She should see what he is. What the Dark Arts have made him."

Lilith scowled. "I don't need a lesson. I just want to see my uncle."

Her father smiled thinly. "Come, then. It will do you good. Five years at school have certainly taught you nothing."

"I learnt enough," she mumbled.

"Really? Let me see, you barely passed your core subjects, including Potions. You failed to win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin House. You did finally succeed in driving your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to resign, creating a great deal of extra work for me this summer - which I'll now have to co-ordinate around the Aurors. So tell me, Lilith," his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "what have you learnt?"

Well, I learnt how to sneak into the Restricted Section without being caught. From there I learnt how to kill an animal quickly and silently, and extract their magical energy. I learnt how to cut Simon Leach and Margie Leary down with words instead of hexes, and which teachers would give me special treatment because of you, and which students fear me�

She said nothing.

Potter came to her rescue, saying lightly, "Of course, getting rid of unwanted teachers is a useful skill."

"But not," said Snape, "one I'd care Lilith to refine."

Dinner continued in uneasy silence.

As midnight approached, the Aurors grew quiet and tense. Lilith was reading, tucked into a deep, shadowed corner of the lounge room, when Snape entered. Zabini followed a moment later, and Lilith made herself unobtrusive. 

Not seeing her, Snape touched Zabini's arm and said softly, "Do you intend to form a Circle tonight?"

"If I have to."

He scowled. "With witnesses?"

"As I said. If I have to."

Snape tilted his head. "I'd be curious to see how Potter and Weasley fare. Have they ever-"

"No. It's never been necessary."

"Perhaps you should ensure that it remains unnecessary. Or are you so infatuated with the Auror mentality-"

"Severus." Zabini's voice was gentler than Lilith had ever heard it. "I don't want to form a Circle. I'll bluff, I'll threaten, but I don't want it anymore than you."

Snape relaxed slightly, but Lilith could still see the tension in his jaw. "Good." He walked away and entered his office, still not noticing Lilith. After a moment, she followed.

Her father was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and staring at his bookshelf. His mind was obviously far away, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were haunted.

"Are you all right?"

He blinked, and his face was closed once more.

"Of course I am." Before she could argue, he went on, "if you must come, at least put on some decent robes. And do your hair. You look like a street urchin."

Proper paternal distance once more established, he returned to his contemplation.

Lilith returned to her room and defiantly exchanged her Muggle dress for the oldest, thinnest black robes she could find. The long sleeves were artfully slashed in last year's fashion, with impractical trailing cuffs, but it had a high neckline and concealed her legs. She ruthlessly pulled her limp hair into a Victorian knot, but without magic, it would no doubt be falling down again within the hour.

After a moment's thought, she slipped her wand into its pocket on her skirt. Technically, she'd had no need of it over summer. But she had no desire to be vulnerable to attack. Again. 

Snape was once again distracted when she came back downstairs, barely giving her a glance. He was flexing his left hand, a gesture she'd long recognised as a sign of worry.

Harry, though, gave her a small smile that lightened her heart. He too had changed into robes, dark green ones beneath a black cloak. He lit the fire, but rested a hand on Lilith's shoulder to hold her back as Zabini and Weasley threw the Floo powder on the flames and vanished. Only when they were gone did he allow her to move forward.

She knew the second that she emerged from the hearth that something was wrong. The room was dark and silent, and there was no trace of life anywhere beyond it. Weasley and Zabini both had their wands out, their eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. Zabini drew Lilith closer as Potter and Snape emerged.

"What's happened?" Weasley asked.

"Borgin," said Zabini grimly.   


**Chapter Fourteen  
**

 

"You're leaping to conclusions," said Lilith's father.

"I don't believe in coincidence," Zabini snarled. "Who else would dare attack us? Who else would have the resources?"

"He's been in a cell for weeks," Weasley said quietly. 

"Someone must have helped him, then," said Potter. 

"An outsider couldn't have-"

"It would appear that you have a traitor, Enid," said Snape.

"Not in my Coterie," she said. " _Never_ in my Coterie."

"Yeah, and how many others are involved in this project?" Ron said. "The whole operation is too big to control. We should have seen this coming."

"We'll sort this out later," Potter said. "First Coterie was assembling at Borgin's cell." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "Let's see if they survived."

"Severus, Lilith, wait here-"

"No," said Snape. "Borgin could be loose in here, and I think it's clear that the Aurors aren't to be trusted. I don't care to risk Polyjuice replacement. Of either party.

The three Aurors exchanged a look, and Enid nodded.

"Come on, then. Quietly."

They moved in through shadowed corridors, the Aurors taking front and rear, protecting the civilians. Zabini set a rapid, confident pace as they marched steadily downwards. An unnatural silence hung around the Tower. Lilith reached for her father's hand; without speaking, he wrapped his own around her wrist. Reassured by the rare, solid contact, she relaxed.

Two corridors intersected, and in the shadows of the smaller hall, something rustled. Everyone froze. Weasley and Zabini exchanged a look, and Ron moved towards the shadows. 

"Shit," he said, and yanked a long, thorny spine off the wall.

"At least we know what we're up against," Zabini said.

"I don't understand," said Lilith.

"That's Soppora Vine," her father said. "It grows in the presence of certain Sleeping Charms."

"The long-term kind," added Harry, "though this one's young. Not even an hour old. _Lumos_!" 

He shone his wand down the corridor, revealing writhing tendrils.

"Shit," Weasley said again.

"Ron," warned Enid, sounding like Aunt Arabella. Weasley moved back to the group as a tendril snaked towards him.

'They're still unaware," Snape whispered, "but they'll hear our voices. We need to move quickly, before they can sense our movements as well."

"Fire?" asked Weasley.

"Ice."

"Got your wand, Lilith?" She drew it from her robes. "The charm is ' _Frigidaro_ '." Harry demonstrated the neat little flick, though she had learnt the spell in second year.

The vines withered under the charm, and they moved on. Every noise seemed to be magnified, and vines reached for them as they walked. Though her heartbeat sounded like a roar in Lilith's ears, she didn't make a sound, even when a vine wrapped itself around her arm.

" _Frigidaro_ ," snapped her father and Harry at the same time. The plant withered and fell off, leaving Lilith's arm cold and bruised. She allowed Harry to cast a Soothing Charm, while her father looked on and scowled.

The walls became darker as they moved downwards, absorbing what little light there was. The vines were thicker, more aware. They cast _Frigidaro_ again and again, and when that failed to stop one very tough plant, Harry drew a knife from his robes and hacked at it.

"Need a bloody sword," he mumbled.

"Quiet," snapped Zabini and Snape together.

The lowest level was the darkest, filled with an odd aura that made Lilith's head throb. She saw her father's shoulders tighten, and wondered if he'd once been a prisoner down here. 

Unconscious figures were strewn about the main chamber, arranged in a loose circle. She recognised Dennis, Marion and the other Aurors of the First Coterie. There were a few unfamiliar faces, no doubt Aurors of the Second and Third Coteries. Enid knelt to examine them.

"Just sleeping," she breathed. "I've seen cases where a Sleeping Charm is cast _after_ everyone is killed � I remember fighting through the vines and finding a pile of corpses�"

Harry left the main chamber. "Borgin is gone," he called grimly, "but we knew that already."

"So he's just been playing us?" asked Weasley. "All this time?"

Lilith joined Harry outside her uncle's cell. 

"No," said Harry. "I don't think he expected this. Someone came for him, and he went with them." He pointed to a series of gouges in the side of the wooden cot, and the shattered plate on the floor. "Eventually."

"Who, then?" asked Snape. "There are no major Dark wizards left in England. And nothing I saw in France implied that the Order is strong enough to attack the Aurors."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

"Malfoy," they said together.

Snape sneered. "I said _major_ Dark wizards, not corrupt businessmen� Draco's entire adult life has been based on the precedent of his parents. And Lucius never dared imagine anything this audacious."

"Who else, then? A European?" Harry glared at Snape. "Malfoy has the money and the power."

"To suborn an Auror?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Lilith stared at the gouges on the bed. "It was Burke," she said. "He might have had help, but he did it."

"A missing Dark wizard emerges from hiding to rescue his partner from prison?" asked Enid sceptically. 

"From interrogation," said Harry. "Because Borgin had something to reveal. And so does Lilith, even if she doesn't know it."

"We're not going to be able to break the memory charm until we find Borgin."

"If I could persuade Neville-"

"I wouldn't try that again, Harry."

"We're wasting time," said Enid. "We can worry about pursuit later - right now, we should issue a College-wide alert, and contact the Ministry. And get the others into the Infirmary."

"That's just the kind of delay they're hoping for," said Harry. "We might be too late already - we need to start the pursuit now." He straightened and adjusted his robes. "You take care of the others - I'm going after Borgin."

He Disapparated before they could stop him.

***

Rather to Harry's surprise, he was quickly admitted to Malfoy Manor. A human servant led him to a spacious office, where Malfoy himself joined him after several minutes' delay. 

No trace of Lucius lingered in the room, but Harry fancied there was an angry ghost railing at him from the netherworld. He mentally flipped an obscene gesture at the wraith and smiled slowly at Draco.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and there was a flicker of the old rivalry, quickly concealed beneath a veneer of businesslike civility.

"What can I do for you, Potter?" he drawled. " _You_ might be able to spend your nights chasing the miscreants of the world - though I believe _Wizard!_ has some alternative theories - but I'd rather be sleeping in my bed. With my wife."

_Want some salt to rub into that wound, Malfoy?_

Harry swallowed his ire and said, "Had much to do with Janus Borgin lately?"

Malfoy didn't flinch. "Not for a few years. I paid for his legal team several years back. Friend of the family, you know."

"I know."

"Haven't heard from him since then. Not that I sought him out. Rather embarrassing connection, really. Why?" Malfoy's lip curled. "Has he finally broken out, then? And you came rushing to tell me about it, because you so value the role of the free media in our modern society." He leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Or maybe you thought that I had something to do with it. But that can't be the case, can it, Potter? If you really thought I'd had anything to do with Borgin, you'd have brought your Coterie, instead of showing up at half-past midnight, _alone_ , and glaring at me across my desk. So where's your Coterie, Potter? Where's that hellcat Zabini, and why isn't she tearing up my house? Where's the Veritaserum? Where's the Ministry?"

Harry refused to be bated, simply saying, "And if we were to tear your house apart? What would we find?"

"Nothing. Gabrielle and I live simply, and the Ministry taxes heavily. And as much as I'd love to discuss my business interests with you over a cup of tea, I'm afraid I'm going to have to evict you from my home and go back to bed."

"Tired, Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid I'm not a glorified babysitter like you. I do have a career." He smirked. "I think, Potter, that you've gotten a bit carried away with this whole saviour of the world business. You've started to believe your own publicity. Hubris, Potter. It's the downfall of any hero. I don't need the Dark Arts to destroy you - I just have to wait until you do it yourself. And then make sure that the world knows. What is the Muggle term? 'In the public interest'? Tell me, O Great Saviour, what's stopping me from calling my reporters now and giving them the scoop of the decade - Harry Potter, invading the home of a reputable businessman, on the strength of suspicion and a schoolboy grudge?"

"Well," said a soft voice from the doorway, "it might be considered tacky." Gabrielle Delacour Malfoy leaned against the doorframe, clad in a pale dressing down that showed off her white-gold beauty to perfection.

Malfoy's breath caught audibly in his throat, and he rose to his feet to greet his wife. A husband bewitched. 

Gabrielle gave Harry an enigmatic smile as she embraced Draco. 

"Don't say anything about it, darling. For me?"

Malfoy kissed the tips of her fingers. "For you. Only for you." His eyes were angry when he turned back to Harry. "But you're treading on thin ice, Potter. Sooner or later, you'll slip."

Harry opened his mouth, but Gabrielle said, "Just go, Harry. You'll only make it worse."

He left, heart pounding and head throbbing.

_I was so sure. So bloody sure._

And he'd come so close to self-destruction.

He couldn't think straight, still reeling from the heady, distracting anger of the day. He'd taken all his suppressed fury at Snape and directed it at Malfoy, and that had been a mistake.

_But not a fatal one. Yet._

**Chapter Fifteen**

 

Snape gave Harry a disdainful look when he arrived back at the Tower, Apparating into the Coterie lounge. 

"Enjoy your snipe hunt?" Enid murmured.

"Not particularly. What's happened?"

"The rest of the Coterie is in the Infirmary. Ron is watching them - I've called in Magical Law Enforcement to assist. I also owled Tenebreas Lux; he should be here at any moment." She gave Snape an exasperated look. "Please, Professor, I want you to reconsider about the safe-house-"

"No. I've seen too many people murdered in the beds of so-called safe-houses."

_Yeah, he probably killed a few of them himself,_ Harry thought uncharitably.

"If I go into hiding at all," Snape added, "I certainly wouldn't let the Ministry know where I was going."

"We could use Fidelius-"

"For Merlin's sake, Zabini, have you no common sense? That would take weeks to prepare. Anyway, anyone I'd trust as my Secret-Keeper would be close enough to be included in the charm."

Which meant Snape himself, and Arabella Figg. _What a rich life you lead, Professor._

Enid actually looked hurt, but she persisted, "At least allow me to prepare it. In case we need it later."

Snape waved contemptuously, but said, "If you must."

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Tenebreas Lux entered, looking dapper in spite of the late hour. Only the shadows under his eyes betrayed exhaustion. "Enid, Harry�" He paused, lips thinning. "Professor Snape."

"Sir," said Enid. Harry belatedly stood to attention. "The Tower is secure. The First Coterie is-"

"In the Infirmary, I know. I stopped in on my way up here." He brandished a parchment. "I have just received a rather irate owl from Draco Malfoy, asking that I - quote - 'exercise some control over the more volatile elements in my College'. Since Ron Weasley knew nothing about it when I saw him, I'm going to assume that Mr Potter has an explanation." He handed the note to Harry. In his haste to tell tales, Malfoy had abandoned his usual elegant script for an unbecoming scrawl, but the meaning wasn't hard to decipher. At least Malfoy had refrained from veiled threats this time; Lux was famous for being intolerant of blackmail.

"In light of previous connections between Borgin and the Malfoy family, I Apparated straight to the Manor. I'd hoped to catch him in the act - obviously, I didn't."

He expected an official reprimand; it had been a long time since Aurors were free to invade homes on a mere suspicion. But Lux merely said, "You will write a letter of apology to Mr Malfoy. And remind him, politely, that his position brings both privileges and responsibilities, and it would behove him to remember the debt he owes to the College of Aurors."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "For not killing him fifteen years ago?"

"We would have been well within our rights - Imperius or no, young Mr Malfoy was linked with several massacres." Lux smiled grimly. "Anyway, just look at his family background." He turned to Lilith. "And you must be the young lady we've gone to so much trouble to protect."

"Must I?"

"Lilith," Snape breathed.

She scowled. "I'm Lilith Borgin." Slowly, so there could be no doubt of the insult, she offered her hand. Lux took it without hesitation, his thick fingers enveloping hers. His hands were scarred, a legacy from his years as an Auror. It was a stark contrast to Lilith's pale fingers.

"Charmed." He peered at her. "You have your mother's eyes. Did you know that?"

She blinked. "I did. Actually."

"I doubt anyone lets you forget it.

She smiled mirthlessly, in perfect imitation of her father. "No one has any manners these days."

"Lilith. Enough." Snape didn't sound the slightest bit angry, though. 

Lux smirked slightly. "A daughter any man would be proud of."

Snape ignored the jibe and said, "Enid, we're leaving. I don't particularly want to spend the night here."

"Wait - you shouldn't go alone. Harry, you go with them. Brief the Independents. I'll send someone to relieve you as soon as I can spare them."

He scowled, but moved towards the hearth, gesturing Lilith to follow.

"Go to bed," he ordered her as soon as they'd returned to Oxford.

"I'm not-"

"I am not in the mood for argument, Lilith. Now."

She fled, scowling. Harry drew his wand and began making coffee. 

"Do you want something stronger?" Snape asked.

"A Potion? No. Don't care for them."

"You're certain? If I must have you in my house, I want you awake and capable of functioning." His tone implied that Harry was only capable of half the equation anyway.

"I'll do better without."

"Very well." Snape went upstairs to watch over Lilith. Harry patrolled the house, prowling through the rooms until he knew every creaking floorboard by heart.

Moving upstairs, he felt Snape's eyes following him. The professor sat on a chair outside Lilith's open door, reading _Ars Potionis_. A small light hovered over his shoulder, casting the other side of his face into shadow.

The past hung between them; they did not speak.

***

He'd say this for Zabini: she was perceptive. The next day, Potter was reassigned to hunt Borgin, and Snape was able to study his daughter without Potter's distracting presence.

Lilith had changed.

It wasn't obvious; the time with the Aurors had certainly done nothing for her manners. If anything, she was more obnoxious and sulky than ever, though she was losing the insolent adolescent slouch that normally aggravated him. 

But she was angry, and behind the anger, he could see flashes of guilt. She had, after all, gotten herself into this mess, and she clearly knew it. Snape said nothing about her deceptions; the Auror supervision was a more effective house arrest than anything he could do himself. Unlike Potter's crowd, though, he didn't allow her to hide in her room, but forced her to stay downstairs. So much the better to observe her.

She was tired, he decided, watching her droop over a book. Her enormous eyes were shadowed and worried. Ignoring his disapproval - and there was no doubting who had taught her that defiant lift of the chin - she continually asked the other Aurors about Potter.

Her face was open when his name came up, and her eyes held a look Snape had never seen before. Not in Lilith, anyway, though forty years of teaching had given him ample opportunity to see it in other girls.

_Not her. Not_ him. _Not now._

He might have tolerated a schoolgirl infatuation with an unattainable, older Auror. Possibly. But _this_ had too many implications, and he didn't care to think about the possible consequences.

The Department of Mysteries kept no offices in the Ministry buildings, but it was widely known that the 'Ministry researcher' Hermione Granger was housed in Politick Alley, one level above the Minister of Magic. Suppressing his misgivings, he left Lilith in the care of Robinson and Creevey and presented himself to the Ministry gatekeeper on Friday morning, asking to see Granger. 

The gatekeeper - an Auror, Snape had no doubt, unaffiliated with any Coterie - gave him a suspicious look. Snape swallowed his bitter train of thought - _they'd never have made Dumbledore wait, or even Minerva_ \- and said, "I have urgent business with Madam Granger."

"Very well, Headmaster," said the gatekeeper. He waved his wand at the mahogany double doors on his right. "Down that corridor."

The corridor was the same, whatever one's destination, and the spells controlling access to the Ministry's restricted areas were heavily guarded. Snape stalked down the hall, ignoring the curious paintings and statues watching his progress. He considered knocking on the rosewood doors at the end; then he changed his mind and threw them open.

Granger jumped, much to his gratification. Her wand was in her hand before she recognised him and relaxed, but her voice was perfectly calm as she said, "What can I do for you, Headmaster?"

"Potter," he said, and paused, searching for the words to articulate his feelings.

"Is currently in Exeter, I believe, tracking Borgin. How is Lilith?"

"Very well. Why is Potter so interested in her?"

She raised her eyebrows. "What are you implying, Professor? Harry is careless about propriety, and the tabloid media make a sex scandal out of everything, but you surely don't think anything improper is going on." She glared at him. "I trust Harry."

"I simply want to know why he's so concerned with her."

Granger studied him, weighing her words. Deciding how far he could be trusted.

"Harry thinks he's a knight errant," she said at last. "Or rather, he is expected to be one, and he has always lived up to expectations. Surpassed them, even. But there are a lot of grey areas in the real world, and it's no longer a case of Dumbledore good, Voldemort bad. Harry saved Ginny when he was twelve, but he couldn't do it again when he was thirty. The College of Aurors is becoming increasingly political - I know for a fact that two of our Aurors were involved in the assassination of the Madagascan Minister for Magical Affairs last year. They were told he was involved in the Dark Arts, but I know for a fact that is a lie.

"And then Harry meets Lilith, and everything seems simple. He can save the girl again, and he can spend time with a product of the world he saved. Have you heard the term 'Potter's generation'? He hates it, of course, but it does sum up Lilith's peers."

"Typical hyperbole."

"Well, yes. But imagine what Lilith would be if not for Harry."

He could, all too clearly.

"And on a simpler level - Harry's life is littered with people who died because of him. Especially women. I mean, if you believe in real world archetypes and foreshadowing, I'm lucky to be alive! But Harry knows how many sacrifices have been made. He doesn't want to add Lilith to the list." She smiled. "I could also point out that her name is a lot like his mother's. Speaking of women who made sacrifices. But Neville has finally persuaded the wizarding world that Freud was a fruitcake - I wouldn't want to play amateur psychologist with discredited theories."

She chuckled. Snape didn't. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I trust you. More than most in the Ministry, I'd imagine."

"No doubt." No, he was no Dumbledore, trusted and liked by nearly everyone. Nor was he a populist like Minister Leach. He was a former Death Eater, and there were those who still believed he belonged in Azkaban.

"We all trust you, Professor. Me, Harry, Ron, Enid. The people who matter."

Snape sneered; he'd heard these platitudes before. 

"I've taken enough of your time," he said.

"Not at all - I have a feeling we're going to need all the allies we can get, soon."

Snape nodded, and left. Once outside the Ministry building, he Apparated to St Mungo's.

Arabella waved a weak hand in greeting as he entered her room.

"Heard you were back."

"Are you all right?"

"Recovering. I've bullied my doctors into letting me leave in a few days. I had to make all sorts of promises about behaving myself."

"Which, of course, you've no intention of keeping."

"Of course." Severus sat down, and Arabella said, "how is she?"

"Thoroughly infatuated with Potter," he pronounced with disgust.

"But not-?"

"No."

"Thank God. I tried to get him to stay away. Before any of this happened."

"You'd have been better off asking him to do the exact opposite."

"I spoke to Weasley, actually."

"Granger might have been better. Or Enid."

"Ah. Enid." A half-smile touched Arabella's lips. "I thought she'd made her disinterest in Lilith abundantly clear five years ago."

_Sweet Merlin, save me from inquisitive women._ "I never told you that."

"Didn't have to. I do have friends, Severus." So had she heard via gossip, or from Enid herself? Snape decided it was better not to ask.

"Enid � should keep her own counsel where Lilith is concerned."

"You're not tempted to tell her everything?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't know everything anymore. Borgin and Burke have interfered, and now Potter is confusing the issue."

Arabella laughed painfully. "You're so determined to control everything. You can't stand the thought that someone else has power over you."

"I'm not-"

"You're afraid of losing Lilith. You've never appreciated her properly, and now you're terrified that someone will take her away."

"Shouldn't I be - concerned?"

"Well. It depends on the circumstances, doesn't it?" Arabella sighed. "Find Borgin. Find out what he's done. Then we'll know what to do with Lilith."

The interview was over, but Snape was filled with an unaccountable frustration. Arabella did that to him: she saw too much, and she spoke her mind.

Not wanting to return to his Auror-infested home, he walked through the hospital and out into the gardens.

The St Mungo's grounds had been designed in the eighteenth century, by a wizard who had apparently done his best work under the influence of hallucinogens. Or at least, that was the only way to account for the eccentric features. Snape stalked out to the Greek temple, tastefully decorated with the heads of real Gorgons (petrified with mirrors) and sat down.

His meditations were interrupted by an awkward cough. He turned, and found himself looking into Frank Longbottom's weak eyes.

"Snape. I thought it was you."

"You followed me."

"I saw you up here. I wanted to speak."

"Really."

Longbottom sat down, looking very much like his unbearable son.

"I heard your daughter was a patient here."

"Surely your son has some understanding of patient confidentiality. Even if they had to explain it with pictures and flashcards."

"Actually, it was in the newspaper. I read it a lot � I read it a lot, it, uh, improves my concentration span."

Silence stretched between them.

"I heard that you're Headmaster now."

Snape said nothing.

"I was surprised. You're not � who I would have expected, from your class."

"Well, Potter was unable to take the position. Dead and all."

"I know. I remember."

"How lucky for you."

"I remember � I also remember \- you - the Circle-"

Snape's face must have been murderous, for Longbottom, one-time darling of the College of Aurors and scourge of Dark wizards, flinched.

" _I_ barely remember anything," Snape snarled. "After the second day, all I can remember is the pain. You were probably too crazy to care, but _Cruciatus_ pain like that lingers for _days_. And Dumbledore couldn't care for me, too many people would have noticed. So I made my way to Derbyshire and collapsed on Eugenia's doorstep. _She_ nursed me back to health. And then she took her revenge for what you did to me." Snape swallowed, breathing heavily. "I didn't know what she and the others were planning. And I'm not sure I'd have stopped her if I had."

"I didn't - I know - what we did, it was wrong-"

"Wrong? To use Ministry-sanctioned _torture_ on a prisoner - a prisoner who'd already proven cooperative and valuable? You admit that, now?"

"I admitted it then," Longbottom whispered. "You've never been able to forgive-"

"Do you expect me to pat you on the shoulder and tell you it's all right? That's never been my way."

"No. But you could have treated Neville better."

"Why? If not for me - and Eugenia \- he'd no doubt be some low-level Ministry functionary, and the people who helped them find you would still be in power. I laid the groundwork for Eugenia to break his Memory charms-"

"You brutalised him. You bullied a boy in your care-"

"And yet, he thrives." Snape stood up. "I've had enough of your bleating, Longbottom. The ends are all to your advantage - and I don't care to debate the means with you."

He Disapparated before Longbottom could respond.

***

Lilith found her father in his study, reading through what looked like a job application. She paused in the doorway, weighing her options: he'd been in a worse mood than usual on his return from St Mungo's, and he probably still thought it was her fault he had to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Best to leave him be a little while longer�

"Lilith? What do you want?"

She turned back. "Nothing."

"You spent five minutes lurking in my doorway for nothing? I could find you something to do if you're bored."

"I was wondering � Potter's birthday is on Sunday."

"Yes. And?"

"His friends are giving him a party. Most of the Aurors will be there, so Weasley invited me, before you got back."

"Really."

"I want to go."

"The invitation was for their own convenience, surely." 

Lilith shrugged. "Weasley just asked if I was still able to come. He said that Second Coterie and some Independents are taking over the Borgin hunt for a few days, so my uncle - so Borgin can't be certain of who is following him."

Her father studied her. "You hate parties. You usually spend them sulking in the corner."

"Those are Slytherin parties. With no one to talk to but people from school, and most of those are just an excuse for Isobel to sneak into her parents' liquor cabinet. They're _boring_."

"And you think a gathering of Weasleys will be somehow interesting? And their friends, of course. And their offspring."

"At least I'd be meeting people. If you had your way, I wouldn't even be allowed to talk to anyone at school."

She noticed he didn't try to deny it. "Very well, then. If nothing else, maybe Molly Weasley can teach you how to dress." He scowled at her sleeveless Muggle shirt. "Their children might be congenitally insolent, but at least their daughter never looked like a starving orphan."

"No, she married one instead," Lilith muttered as she turned away. 

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

Relieved of his duties for the weekend, Harry let himself into his flat at ten-thirty on Friday night. There was a pile of mail and newspapers waiting for his attention on the table, but he ignored them and collapsed into his bed.

His dreams were filled with shadows; he walked down endless hallways, and someone was always watching him. He'd turn his head, and hear footsteps behind him, disappearing down a side-corridor.

He was still tired when he woke, as if he hadn't slept at all.

It was always strange to be alone again after a few days in the constant company of a fellow Auror. Harry would have preferred to go on longer; two days wasn't enough time to establish patterns, and it was dangerous to change hunters so quickly. But he was Harry Potter, and he was about to turn thirty-four, and someone had evidently decided that he should have a weekend off for his birthday, Dark wizards be damned. Ron and Hermione were planning what they fondly thought of as a surprise party. There was no escaping it.

_Just think of it as another professional duty._

He very much wanted to see Lilith.

He ruthlessly suppressed that thought, along with every other emotional impulse he'd felt in the last few days. He would have a long talk with Hermione when this was all over, and accept her scolding if only he could somehow abandon this disturbing infatuation.

Sunday, his birthday, dawned hot, bright and humid, and a cohort of owls delivered birthday greetings. Harry skimmed them, penned a few responses, and awaited the hour he could Apparate to the Burrow for "a small family barbecue".

By eleven, he could stand the solitude no longer, and Apparated to Oxford. 

For a second, he thought that his knock had gone unheard. The sun prickled on his skin, and he was about to give up and leave, when Snape opened the door. 

"Potter. To what do I owe the honour of the occasion?"

"It's my birthday," said Harry shortly. "Is Lilith home?" _Please, sir, can I come over to play?_

"She's not. As a matter of fact, your cronies stopped by and picked her up about an hour ago. Judging by the suppressed laughter, I'd say they're planning a last minute surprise party." Snape leaned against the doorframe, pointedly not inviting Harry inside.

"That'd be Hermione and Ron, then."

"Accompanied by the less irritating Creevey brother, yes."

Harry sighed. "Can I come in?"

Snape considered it for a moment, and then moved aside. Harry caught a glimpse of Enid, looking up from a book as he and Snape swept past. 

Snape Summoned two wineglasses with no concern for their evident value, but selected the wine with his own hands. Harry followed him out onto the back porch, overlooking a small, well-tended garden.

"This would be your thirty-fourth birthday," Snape said.

_You know perfectly well what birthday it is._

"Yeah." Snape handed him a glass of wine; Harry tasted it thoughtfully. "The Malfoy Estate," he guessed, "2010."

"Why is it, Potter, that you failed to learn a single thing in seven years of Potions, yet managed to absorb everything I could teach you about good alcohol with no apparent effort?"

"Gryffindor mentality, Sirius says."

"At least you hold your liquor like a Slytherin."

"Parseltongue and a liver of steel. Voldemort's greatest gifts."

Snape stood and leaned against the railing. Without turning around, he said seriously, "Do you remember the discussion we had eighteen years ago?"

Remember? Harry could -- and had \-- relived his sixteenth birthday in dreams. And in nightmares.

"Yes."

"And?" Snape turned. "Do you regret the choices you made?"

"You didn't give me choices. Except for life and death." Harry stared into his glass. "I made my decision. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't necessarily right ... except that I survived, and I healed."

Snape's hands twitched. "Did the ends justify the means?"

"I defeated Voldemort, didn't I?" Unaccountably irritated, Harry rose and joined Snape. "Look, I don't need to play the nostalgia game. I just came over to visit a friend."

Snape snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Potter, that your friends have a tendency to find themselves in unpleasant situations. I would prefer that you not count Lilith among them."

"If this is about--"

"It's not."

"She was in danger."

"I'm aware of that. And your protection was..." Snape's mouth twisted and he reluctantly said, "invaluable. It's also over." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape silenced him. "This is not about the tabloids; I know as well as everyone else that Malfoy controls the media. It's about _you_ , and your tendency to fail where those closest to you are concerned."

"I don't know what you--"

"Sixth year: Hermione Granger was abducted by Lucius Malfoy. Seventh year: Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom spent a month as Eugenia Lestrange's prisoners."

"I got Hermione out. I found Ron and Neville."

"Yes. But they only became targets because of you." Mercifully, Snape didn't mention Cho Chang, or Cedric Diggory. But next words were carefully chosen to wound. "And then ... there was your wife."

Harry stiffened. "Leave Ginny out of this. It's a separate matter."

"Really. Then you _don't_ hold yourself personally responsible for her death? Dear me, Potter, I must have the other Boy Who Lived in mind..."

"Who the hell have you been talking to?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Like hell -- wait. _Hermione_ told you that?"

"Is she wrong?"

"To discuss me with _you_? Yes!"

Snape took a step towards Harry; he was a good three inches taller, and far more intimidating. 

"This is the pattern, Potter: those you care about become targets. Sometimes you're able to save them, sometimes not. Either way, the slightest failure eats away at your soul, and you have to retreat from the world to play Quidditch for a few years. And everyone allows it, because you're famous Harry Potter, and you deserve _extra_ special treatment."

"I'm not going to fail."

"Of course not. Because after tonight, I'm ending your association with Lilith. Your colleagues can work with her. You track Borgin." Snape turned and walked inside. "I hear the Falcons are recruiting for the next season," he called over his shoulder. 

Harry resisted the urge to throw his wineglass, or the whole bottle, at Snape. Instead, he grabbed his wand and Disapparated, landing in his flat just long enough to find his broom.

He spent the next few hours in the air, but there was no joy in flight that day.

***

Hermione hurried Lilith through the ramshackle halls and stairways of the Burrow. 

"It's not the original house," she was saying, "that was destroyed in '96, but this is near enough. Molly insisted - the design is almost identical to that of the old house - just a bit more coherent." She paused for breath on a landing, and threw a door open. "You can leave your things here - this is just a guest room, now. It used to be-" Granger paused, then changed tack. "Thank you for coming early. We've so much to do - the Borgin case meant that everything was left to the last minute-"

"I don't mind," said Lilith. Most of the parties she attended were catered and well-organised, with none of the chaos she'd witnessed downstairs. Any dramas were concealed from the guests. This looked far more interesting. 

Hermione led her downstairs, into the large kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was new and well-built, but covered in clutter. A group of women were clustered around the bench and kitchen table, where a space had been cleared for bowls and food.

"Where's Molly?" Hermione asked.

"Outside," answered a woman with curly brown hair, "chivvying Charlie and Percy about the barbecue, and inspecting Fred and George's lights."

"Right. Lilith, this is Penelope." She quickly introduced the other women: Angelina, Marie and Diane. "Where's Fleur?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Preening."

"Never mind," said Penelope. "Too many cooks and all. Lilith, can you mix some drinks for the children?"

Unaccustomed to the company of large numbers of grown women, Lilith stayed quiet and listened as the Weasley daughters-in-law caught up on each other's lives. A familiar name caught her ear, and she realised that Penelope was the mother of her classmate, Steve.

"I swear, he gets more difficult every year," she was saying.

"Something to look forward to, then?" asked Angelina with a wry smile; she claimed possession of the bored eight-year-old who had slouched in to sample the cordials Lilith was mixing.

"I don't know if I'd say that." Penelope dropped her voice, and all the women, Lilith included, leaned in closer. "It's a bit � political."

"You're a Muggle-born," Hermione guessed.

"And Steve is the first half-blooded Weasley," said Penelope grimly.

"So?" asked Marie. "It's not like Percy would make a big deal of it - he wouldn't, would he? He doesn't seem like the type."

"Of course not. But Steve has developed a nasty inferiority complex, and guess who he blames?"

"Oh, Penelope," said Diane.

"It is a bit distressing. He won't listen to a word I say, and I know that's supposed to be normal for boys his age-"

"But you want to be certain that he'll start listening again when he's an adult," said Angelina.

"Precisely."

"Where does he pick these ideas up, anyway?" asked Diane, "what on earth are they teaching at-" She glanced at Lilith and stopped.

Hermione said, "I highly doubt Professor Snape could add Doctrines of Purity to the school curriculum without someone noticing. But he can hardly censor everyone Steve might come in contact with - and it's not unthinkable that he's developed this idea on his own."

"But how do I fix it?" demanded Penelope. "I can hardly put him under Imperius until he starts thinking the way I want."

"Oh, I don't know," said Angelina, "I wouldn't mind putting Fred under Imperius, sometimes. Just so he'd behave like an adult once in a while." She grinned at Diane. "Just you wait until you and George are expecting. You'll be eating _and_ thinking for two."

"Wonderful," Diane sighed.

"Dennis has gone with Ron to get the drinks, hasn't he?" asked Hermione, carrying a bowlful of something white and squishy to the bench.

"I think so," said Marie.

"Good. Angelina, can you give me a hand? I need to get this calamari into the marinade before they get back." To Lilith, she added in a low voice, "Dennis has Views on the consumption of certain forms of marine life."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a long story," said Ron, wandering in with a crate of drinks. "Don't worry, Dennis is outside, doing the lights." 

"Oh, good." The conversation turned to other matters, people and events that Lilith didn't know. It was strangely comforting, to know that there was a world outside her father's house, and people who thought of matters beyond rules and restrictions. Lilith concealed her smile behind a curtain of hair, and slipped away to change.

Upstairs, in the privacy of the guest bedroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Well," said the mirror helpfully, "they say candlelight has a marvellously softening effect."

"Thanks."

Her favourite dress had long lace sleeves, and dozens of tiny buttons in the back, charmed to do themselves up. The fabric was itchy, and the calf-length skirt was too hot for the unnatural weather, but it made her look dramatic and interesting, as opposed to merely gangly and ugly. Her buttoned Victorian boots pinched her heels and toes, but they were the only things that suited the dress.

A cry went up downstairs. A glance out the window revealed that the crowd in the backyard had swollen since she'd started changing, and Potter had just arrived. Which meant that when she went downstairs, all eyes would be on him and away from her.

She left her hair down, dramatically outlined her eyes with makeup, and slipped downstairs.

***

Harry made his way through the throngs of well-wishers, seeking Lilith. To their credit, Ron and Hermione had invited no one he didn't know and like, but so many of the people around him seemed more acquaintance than friend.

_Or maybe you made them into that._

He searched for a pair of familiar dark eyes as the sun went down.

"Harry, dear!"

He paused in his search long enough to give Molly Weasley a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Great party, Molly. I can't believe Ron and Hermione talked you into having it here."

"Oh, Harry, you're part of the family, you know that." She gave him a searching look, and he wondered how to respond. In the end, he settled for kissing her again. Over her shoulder, he could see Lilith leaning against the doorway. Harry moved towards her, leading Molly with him.

"I didn't expect to find you here," he said.

She smiled. "You weren't supposed to expect anyone here."

Harry shrugged as Molly scolded him, before she turned to Lilith.

" _I_ knew you were coming," she said. "Ron let me know a few days ago. You poor thing, you must be having a dreadful summer�"

She was steering Lilith ruthlessly towards the refreshment table, her determined maternalism leaving Harry no opportunity to say more.

He went to get a drink.

"All right, Harry?"

He sighed. "Hullo, Colin."

Colin Creevey grabbed a drink of his own and followed Harry.

"Quite the party."

"Oh yeah." Harry forced a grin. "It was a real surprise."

"Yeah, right." Colin peered at the refreshment table. "I'm surprised to see Lilith Borgin, though." He gave Harry a sidelong look. "What does Snape have to say about all this?"

Harry eyed the camera around Colin's neck. "Are you here professionally, then?"

"Just curious."

"Right."

"Look, Harry, I'm a political journalist. I wouldn't touch a tabloid with a ten-foot-pole. And I'd love a comment from Harry Potter on the Borgin case as a whole, but I'm not going to waste my time pushing you at your own birthday party. I'm just curious."

Harry shrugged.

"I don't pretend to know Snape's mind."

"Right then."

"Still," a reckless idea took hold of Harry, and he dropped his voice, "if you really want a meaty political article�"

Colin's eyes gleamed. "Go on."

"This Borgin case has made me notice a lot of problems with the way the College of Aurors is run these days. There's a lot of bureaucracy, a lot of pointless rules that stop us from doing our jobs properly. And no one is brave enough to discuss it out loud."

"But you'll blow the whistle, Harry?" There was a gleam of the old hero-worship in Colin's eyes.

"Well, no. In fact, I don't want my name associated with this in any way."

"Oh, come on, Harry-"

"Look, this is my career on the line, okay? We're not supposed to talk to the media."

Colin scowled. "I think you're missing the point."

"What, to get you the kudos of bagging an interview with me? I think we have a different idea of what the point is."

"If you like. Personally, I think you just want to play Deep Throat."

"I'm sure that doesn't mean what I think it does. Or at least, I hope not."

"Modern American history. Muggle history, more like. An old girlfriend of mine is something of an expert." He grinned. "You'd like her, actually."

Harry sipped his beer. "Are you trying to set me up with your ex-girlfriend, Colin?"

"Guilty. Come on, Harry." He waited for Colin to say, _Time to buck up and move on_ , but instead he said, "you two have a lot in common. She's very athletic _and_ has a medal for bravery. Saved some kids from a gunman a few years back."

_It's not_ meant _to be an insult_ , Harry told himself. After all, Colin's father had remarried quickly after his wife's death; Harry had spent a week in that working class home, hiding from Voldemort when he was sixteen. It had been a happy, comfortable family, and Colin's stepmother had been a damn sight more maternal than, say, Aunt Petunia.

He laughed at that thought, and decided to accept the favour for what it was. "Yeah. Whatever. Set us up." A friendly evening with an adult woman was probably just what he needed.

"Great, then." They watched the party in friendly silence, Harry drinking while Colin snapped pictures of the guests. Seamus Finnegan was cutting a fine figure on the dance floor, and the Weasley twins were the centre of attention. 

They might have been in the Gryffindor common room, but for the children underfoot. This wasn't one of the drunken blow-outs of House legend, this was a _family_ party.

Across the yard, Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione, proudly showing off their near-imperceptible bump to Dean. Harry suppressed a stirring of jealousy, but he was keenly aware of the gulf between them: Ron and Hermione were starting a family, while he went on a blind date with Colin Creevey's ex and entertained an unwanted attraction to a teenage girl.

He was going to be the sort of godfather who became a mortal embarrassment to his charges.

Oh well, he thought, catching sight of Remus and Sirius, at least the company was good. He bid Colin goodbye and set off after them.

"You're looking well," said Remus, "considering."

"Considering?"

"Well, I thought Severus was going to kill you when he saw those Polyjuiced photos in _Wizard!_."

"Feed your testicles to the giant squid, at least," Sirius added.

"He talked Enid into assigning me away from his household. No mutilation necessary."

"Good," said Sirius. "I rather liked Lilith, but I can't say I was happy at the thought of you spending a lot of time with Snape."

"What, afraid he'll be a bad influence? Don't bother."

"Where's Enid, by the way?" Sirius asked. "I've seen the rest of the Coterie here - a bit slack, that. Would never have happened under the old Minstry."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Enid's in Oxford. I saw her this afternoon."

Remus and Sirius exchanged an amused look, which Harry decided to ignore. He scanned the crowd for Lilith, and hoped he wasn't being too obvious.

***

Ron found Dennis contemplating a pastry with the wariness of a man who had spent two years sharing a common room with Fred and George.

"Don't eat that," he warned.

"Why, what does it do?"

"Nothing. But Penelope made it, and she's terrible with desserts."

"Thanks." Dennis selected something else, and Ron watched in silent amusement as he turned into a giant teddy bear.

"Sorry," he said when Dennis was returned to his natural state. "I probably should have mentioned that the twins did all the others."

"What about the birthday cake?" asked Dennis with as much dignity as possible. "What will that do to your hapless guests?"

"Absolutely nothing." They moved away from the food table, and the amused gazes of other guests. The best and brightest of the College of Aurors, that's us. Well, me. _If anyone asks, we'll tell 'em that Dennis is the mascot._ "The twins wanted to charm it to look like a naked Veela, but Mum put her foot down, and anyway, we did that for his stag night."

"So this is life with the Weasleys. A sordid world of naked Veelas and giant teddy bears. You know, I always secretly wished that I was part of your family."

"Well, that's-"

"But I think I'm finally over it."

"Um. Thanks." Ron sipped his beer and decided that turnabout was fair play. "So, what's this I hear about you and Marion?"

He was rewarded with a blush. "Nothing. Much."

"Nothing? So � you're not taking a quiet little seaside holiday together once this is all finished?"

"Who told you that?"

"Marion."

"All right, yes. We're going away together."

"I knew it! Hah, made you tell me! Dunno what they were teaching when _you_ became an Auror, Dennis. What if I'd been an enemy under Polyjuice, asking questions about our current projects?"

"Well, I'd have been inclined to wonder why Ron Weasley, who usually knows more about these things than I do, would be asking questions. Especially when the current project is right over there." He pointed over to the apple orchard where Ron and his family had once played pick-up Quidditch. Lilith was having what looked like a verbal sparring match with Steve.

"Well, that's� all very reasonable. And I think you and Marion will make a very cute couple."

"Thanks."

"Not that I approve of office romances, mind. But I won't tell Enid if you won't."

"Thank you."

"And this seaside idea is just perfect. It'll be a great opportunity."

"Tha - wait, opportunity for what?"

"For Marion to save you from drowning, of course. That is your thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron grinned. "So you and the giant squid�"

"Just friends."

"And those rumours about a mermaid in your seventh year?" 

"Complete fabrication. Except for most of it."

"You can't deny that Jocasta Kostakeidis gave you a Love Potion while she was fishing you out of the sea."

"Why deny it? You were there. Although in my defence, we hadn't realised what a threat she was at the time."

"True. But still, there's a pattern."

"That's hardly a pattern," Dennis muttered. "I mean, for all you know, I've had loads of relationships that didn't involve water at all."

"Really?"

"Well, two." 

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Dennis. I think you need to find yourself a nice lifeguard and settle down."

Dennis chose to ignore this, possibly wisely, since Ron could think of an endless supply of variations on the theme. They made their way over to Dennis's brother, who snapped their photos, looking deeply happy with himself.

"What have you done?" Dennis asked.

"Reintroduced the Boy Who Lived into the great mating game."

While Ron deciphered this, Dennis said, " _You set him up on a date?_ "

"Yup." Colin's eyes shone with wicked glee, prompting Dennis to ask, "What's the catch?"

"Well, she's a Muggle."

"That won't bother Harry," Ron pointed out.

"She's a Muggle journalist."

"Colin!" snapped Dennis and Ron together.

He laughed. "You won't tell him, will you? I didn't realise what I was doing until it was arranged."

"I don't even know why you felt like setting Harry up at all," Ron said. "He hasn't shown the slightest bit of interest-"

"It was his idea."

"Oh. Well." That was a bit odd, Ron thought, that Harry shouldn't even mention that he was thinking of returning from the social limbo of the last couple of years. But then, to do so would be to admit that he was over Ginny's death, and that wasn't necessarily the sort of thing he'd want to admit to Ginny's brother.

_Anyway, we'd both know it was a lie_.

"That's good, I suppose," Ron said. "Good for him to get out a bit � and meet good people�"

As if she sensed his bewilderment from the other side of the yard, Hermione approached. "Hello, Colin," she said cheerfully, linking her arm through Ron's. "What's happening?"

"Harry has a date," Ron said. "I mean, he's let Colin here set him up. With a Muggle journalist."

"How interesting." Hermione grinned, though Ron could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. "I'll have to interrogate him about this later. In the meantime, Colin, have I inflicted my pregnancy stories on you yet?"

In other circumstances, Ron might have felt sorry for Colin.

***

Lilith was unaccustomed to being mothered, and she slipped away from Molly Weasley as soon as the older woman was distracted. She lingered on the fringe of the crowd, watching Harry move through the people clamouring for his attention. She wondered if his desire to be elsewhere was obvious to anyone else.

"Borgin."

Lilith turned, and immediately wished she hadn't. Steve Weasley smirked at her over a bottle of Butterbeer.

"Didn't expect to find you here," he said, "queen of the tabloids and all."

She scowled, and he laughed. "Relax. Everyone here knows it's a heap of shit. This happens to Harry all the time." He frowned. "I remember when Aunt Ginny died. I was at school � I guess you were, too. We developed a pretty thick skin."

"I remember," said Lilith. Cautiously she asked, "did you know your aunt well, then?"

"Rather. She was pretty nice. And Harry was a lot more fun when she was alive." He scowled, took a swig from his Butterbeer and offered it to Lilith. She took a drink and choked.

"What in Hecate's name is _in there?_ "

"I got into Grandad's Firewhisky."

"It's awful."

"I know. Want more?"

"No � all right." It was better on the second mouthful, or maybe she was just ready for it.

Steve led her further away from the house, to an orchard of withered apple trees.

"So," he said, "are you really a pawn in your father's plot to seduce Harry into the Dark Order?"

"Are you really trying to be the most obnoxious person on the face of the earth?"

"Yes. But only because it annoys my dad."

"Anyway, if I were a pawn, I wouldn't even know it."

"Maybe you're not a pawn, then. Maybe you and your dad are in it together." Lilith bristled, and he laughed. "Nah. If Snape were evil, school would be a lot more interesting. Though my dad reckons it's just a matter of time � once you turn to the Dark, you always want to go back."

Lilith stood up. "I don't have to listen to this."

"No, wait," he grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be so sensitive. People say stuff like that all the time." He smirked. "Don't you read the papers?"

"I'm getting rather sick of hearing what people have to say." Lilith swallowed. "And I'm not looking forward to going back to school."

"Why not? People talk about you all the time anyway. Everyone knows about you."

"Oh? And what do they think they know?" The iciness in her voice was worthy of her father.

"That you're the Dementor Baby. That your parents were Death Eaters, and that the other Slytherins are scared of you. And that you're always sick."

"I get migraines."

"There you are." He drank. "And everyone knows you know the Dark Arts."

"So if you know all that," said Lilith, "why are you out here, tempting fate and making me angry?"

"Dunno. Guess I'm tired of spending time with my sisters. And you're the only other interesting person here."

"I think you overestimate yourself," Lilith said. She paused. "You think I'm interesting?"

"You're not as boring as my family. You _know_ stuff."

"The Dark Arts."

"Well, yeah." He studied her. "Could you teach me?"

Lilith recoiled. "Do I look like I want to teach you?"

"Not hardly."

"Anyway, I can't do much. I've just read a lot." He grinned at this revelation, and she scowled. "Anyway, what do you want to learn the Dark Arts for? Looks to me like you have everything in the world."

"Yeah, like a boring dad and a Mudblood mother, and a heap of sisters. And the others, the fellows at school, they're always going on about how I'm the first half-blood Weasley.

"Simon Leach is a half-blood. His father was the first non-Pure-blood Minister."

"He's all right. The others are-" There was evidently no word to describe the other Gryffindor boys, and Weasley fell silent, brooding. Lilith watched him covertly. Her uncle had often lectured her about purity of blood, and a wizard or witch's duty to the family. Once, known half-bloods had been killed at birth, if not sooner. There were Dark spells that called for the skin of an infant half-blood; the only reason, her uncle Janus had said, that such a child would be willingly conceived.

Her father never spoke openly about the Doctrines of Purity, and the false philosophies which had once led him to become a Death Eater. But she had once worked up the courage to question Aunt Arabella, and had received a simple reply: "Pure blood? Load of bollocks. No such thing these days, whatever people might say."

"Harry Potter's mother was a Muggle-born," Lilith said.

"He doesn't count. The world just makes new rules for him." Steve scowled. "You don't know what it's like. Being the first half-blood in the family."

"You're talking rubbish. We're _all_ half-bloods."

"Thought your parents were Pure-bloods. You-Know-Who thought so, too."

"Voldemort was wrong." Something stirred inside her as she said this, and she shivered. "He was a fool. And he paid for it."

"Yeah," said Steve. "I guess he did."

She shivered again.

"You cold?" he asked.

"On a night like this? No." Lilith wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking. 

"Here," Steve said, and threw his summer cloak over her shoulders. Then he paused, leaned forward, and planted a kiss on her lips. He tasted like Butterbeer and Firewhisky, he was all together too sloppy, and the hands he wrapped around her were unpleasantly sweaty. But there was something, something in the force of his mouth on hers that made her gasp and kiss him back.

She didn't want _him_ , she realised, but she _wanted_. She wanted very much.

It wasn't enough.

She ended the kiss and stood up, feeling sick. He made a grab for her, but she moved, leaving him staring at her with a kind of possessive dislike in his face.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said, shaking madly and throwing his cloak away. "Don't even come near me."

"Borgin-"

"You won't even call me by my first name," she hissed, turning and stumbling back towards the house.

She didn't see the branch until she'd tripped over it, but strong hands caught her, and she looked up into a pair of worried green eyes.

"Lilith?" said Harry, "what's wrong? What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

***

He was going to kill Steve Weasley. Slowly and painfully. And then he was going to cut the body up into little pieces and feed it to one of Arabella Figg's Kneazles.

Come to think of it, Arabella and Snape would probably help him.

The worst part was that Lilith wouldn't cry. Her stoicism seemed unnatural and almost painful to watch. She simply sat on Molly and Arthur's couch and stared at her hands. She'd pulled away from Molly's hug and allowed only Harry to remain with her, while the party droned on outside.

"I feel so humiliated," she said eventually.

"So does Steve, I imagine."

Percy had dragged his son home, barely restraining his fury. The party was beginning to wind down, but enough people remained that the story was no doubt already halfway across England.

If Lilith weren't involved, Harry would have judged it a just punishment.

"He's in trouble. The Weasleys don't like it when one of their boys makes a girl cry." He tried for weak humour. "Tarnishes that chivalric Gryffindor image."

"Chivalry is dead."

"Okay, he was obviously insensitive-" and Harry wasn't at all thrilled that Steve was apparently willing to try his luck with a girl he didn't even like, "but he-"

"You don't understand. The things he was saying - he knows - he thinks I know the Dark Arts. He asked about it, and said some stuff about purity of blood�" A single tear trickled down her cheek, leaving a streak of makeup. "He only wanted me because I'm a Pure-blood."

Harry scowled. The Kneazles would be too good for Steve. He stood up. 

"I'm going to have a little talk with that boy."

"No." She grabbed his hand. "Don't go."

"We'll have to leave soon."

"I know. I just - I just don't want to see my father yet. He'll know what happened."

"Will he?"

"He always knows." She sighed. "I never realised what people said about him. That they wait for him to turn back to the Dark. Vultures."

"Not everyone."

"Really."

Harry knelt down and looked up into her face. "Nothing would surprise me more than Snape turning back to the Dark Arts. He might walk a fine line, but I've learnt to trust him."

The tension in her hands eased slightly. "You truly believe that?"

"Yes. There's nothing for him down that road. Nothing but death."

Lilith shuddered. Harry slipped one hand out from under hers and rubbed her arm.

"Look," he said, "about your father. We had a talk this morning."

She became wary. "Go on."

"He's asked me to leave you alone. Not just with the case, though that's part of it�"

"He has no right," she spat, "no reason."

"He has every right. He's your father. And as for reason � my friends tend to become targets."

"And I can't defend myself," she said bitterly. "Because I'm too young."

"I'm sorry. I don't like it, but he's right. And then there's the tabloids-"

"I don't care."

"Liar."

She paused. "I care. But I wouldn't mind so much if I had a friend - I don't have friends, you see, not really. So people would talk - they've done so since you were a baby."

Harry watched their fingers entwine, and wished � he didn't know what he was wishing. That he was a different man, younger, less damaged, able to save her � able to look at her without wanting to destroy her�

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I won't go against your father in this."

"Why not? Nothing's ever stopped you before."

"No � but he's right." The memory of Ginny's body rose in his mind. "I won't put you in danger."

Lilith scowled, looking very much like her father. Harry stood up, releasing her hands. 

"I'll get Ron and Hermione to take you home," he said.

"Very well, then."

Harry reached down, almost brushing her hair. "Goodbye, Lilith."

Her eyes were cold, furious and desperate.

Harry walked away before his nerve failed.

Most of the guests had gone, returned to tuck children into beds and prepare for work the next day. George and Diane were cleaning up, assisted by Arthur. Remus and Sirius were lingering in conversation with Ron and Hermione.

"Can you take Lilith home?" Harry asked Ron, retrieving his cloak from a chair. Grimly, he threw it around his shoulders. "I need a word with Steve."

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

Percy and Penelope lived in a comfortable house on the outskirts of London. Harry stormed out of the Apparition Parlour and upstairs, sweeping past Penelope and the girls without a word. Steve and Percy were in the messy bedroom at the top of the stairs. Harry pushed Percy aside, grabbed Steve by the collar and threw him against a wall.

"So," he snarled, "you want to know about the Dark Arts."

Steve choked, and Harry tightened his grip around the boy's collar.

"Were you really out to learn about Darkness, Steve, or were you just playing with a girl's mind?"

"Harry," Percy began.

"Shut up, Percy." He returned his attention to the boy. "You want to be a Dark wizard, then? You want to see the Dark Arts in action?" Harry drew his wand and pressed it against Steve's neck. He could feel the energy coursing through him; he had to fight to restrain himself. He was out of practice at handling this; he would pay for it later. But for now, all he had to do was ride the wave. Steve's eyes were huge; he looked like a scared child, not a sulky adolescent. "Let me give you a lesson�"

"Harry," Steve gasped, "Uncle Harry, please�"

Harry froze.

It had been so long since anyone had called him that.

Percy leaned forward and plucked the wand from his unresisting hand.

"Steve is my son," he said. "I'll deal with this. It's not your concern."

Harry was shaking uncontrollably as Percy pushed him toward the stairs. He made his way down unseeing, and wondered what was happening to him.

"Harry?"

"Penelope."

Her eyes were cool. "I think you've done enough here. Go home."

"I'm sorry-"

"Go home."

He Disapparated.

***

Harry opened every window in his flat, but the hot wind did nothing to sooth him. He lay in the tendrils of a dream, Lilith's face merging with her mother's, and Snape's words eighteen years ago echoing in his mind: "I'm offering you life, you stupid boy, can't you comprehend that?"

He dragged himself out of bed and into a cold shower.

When he emerged, Hermione was sitting on his couch and Ron stood by the window. Hermione's eyes were stricken as she said, "What have you done?"

"Nothing."

"Percy said-"

"I stopped."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"I thought Sirius and Remus were overreacting with all the worry about you and Snape," Ron said.

"They were. This has nothing to do with Snape."

"He might-"

"Look, I've been having dreams all summer," Harry snapped. In the silence that followed, he added, "I've been dreaming about Voldemort for weeks."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything�" Hermione said, but she didn't sound convinced. 

"But you have dreams all the time, right?" said Ron. "We all do."

"Yeah. But I'm the only one whose been carrying a few of Voldemort's powers all his life."

"His powers," said Hermione, "not his personality."

"We can't be sure of that. I took to the Dark Arts easily enough, didn't I?" He grimaced. "Or would you rather that was my own personality?"

Hermione took his hand. "We all have our demons. Literally, in your case."

"And we trust you." Ron came closer. "That's my professional assessment as an Auror, incidentally."

A headache was beginning to form behind Harry's eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"This will clear up," Hermione promised. "Now that you're not in contact with Snape � I hadn't expected this to happen at all - I don't imagine anyone did. You took us all by surprise."

"Been doing that all his life," Ron offered.

"Look, it's not Snape, okay?" said Harry. "This started while he was in France. And it's happened before."

"That was different," said Ron.

"How?" Harry rubbed his temples. "I failed then, too."

"You weren't to know the danger Ginny was in," said Hermione. 

"I was having the dreams, wasn't I? And I ignored them." 

"You weren't to know," Hermione said again.

"Shouldn't make the same mistake twice, though." He looked up at Ron, squinting without his glasses. "Keep an eye on Lilith, okay? There's something going on here, and I'm beginning to think that Borgin is the least of her worries."

***

Ron saw neither Harry nor Lilith for a couple of days. Along with Enid, he was called before Tenebreas Lux and the Minister of Magic to account for the Coterie's actions on the Borgin case.

"You'll notice that Harry hasn't been summoned," Enid murmured as they waited to be admitted to the Minister's office.

"Ease up," Ron said, "he's the best hunter we've got."

"I know. I'm just so _frustrated_ -" She broke off as Alexander Mulogo, Lux's second-in-command, entered the antechamber. He nodded to them.

"Nice to see you both," he said, his teeth flashing white in his dark face.

"Possibly for the last time, eh?" said Ron. "We who are about to die, and all that."

"I wouldn't go that far," said Mulogo. "Lux is on your side. It's Minister Leach you have to watch out for." He laughed quietly. "Not that I told you that."

"Of course not," said Enid. "Thanks."

"Any time." 

The doors opened, and a Ministerial flunky ushered them through.

The meeting was predictably hostile, and Ron found himself doubting Mulogo's assertion that Lux was on their side. He and Leach brandished the Coterie's reports and budget.

"This is completely unacceptable," Leach said. "Not only is it an expense we cannot justify, but it flies in the face of tradition to devote so many resources to the protection of one individual."

"Come now," said Lux, looking surprised, though he had to have known Leach would take this stance. "I agree that there have been problems with the investigation, but Lilith Borgin shouldn't be punished for that."

"Punished? Hardly. But with Professor Snape back in the country, I believe it's time for the First Coterie to abandon this waste of resources and concentrate on finding Janus Borgin. The College of Aurors does not exist to stand _in loco parentis_ for the children of Death Eaters."

"That's not fair," said Enid, "you cannot abandon her because of her parents-"

"We'd hardly be abandoning her, Miss Zabini," said Leach. He selected a parchment from the pile before him. "If this report from France is anything to judge by, Professor Snape should be more than capable of protecting the girl."

"And if he's not?" asked Ron. "We have reason to believe the Dark Order will come for him, too-"

"Professor Snape can take care of himself," said Leach. 

"And he _is_ very independent," added Lux with a show of reluctance. "I'm told that he has already refused to go into a safe-house, or protect himself with Fidelius."

"That's true," said Enid, "but his reasons are valid."

"Anyway," said Ron bitterly, "even if he was begging for help-"

"Which he wouldn't," Enid muttered.

"-You wouldn't even give it to him. You didn't when-" He broke off.

Lux regarded Ron with something like pity. "I'm not blind to the similarities between this situation and your sister's death," he said, "but I think perhaps you're blind to the differences. We made a mistake with Mrs Potter - and she was very much alone when she died. Miss Borgin and Professor Snape are not."

_You lying rat_ , thought Ron, _you know perfectly well that Ginny wasn't in any way alone when she died_.

He kept his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry it's come to this," said Lux, glaring at Leach. "I believe First Coterie were doing the right thing in protecting Miss Borgin. And if course, it was just the thing young Harry needed to get some life back into his career." Ron didn't dare look at Enid. "But alas - all good things, and so forth."

"You've had a good run, you Aurors," said Leach, "but now it's time to bring it to an end."

***

While Enid broke the news to Snape, Ron found Lilith up in her room. He dismissed Lisa, found the desk chair beneath a clutter of books and sat down.

"We're being removed from the case," he said bluntly. "All of us. Not just Harry."

She stared at him blankly, shifting closer to the corner and drawing her knees to her chest.

"You must be joking," she said. "I'll die."

"Your father will take care of you. And I'll let Professor Lupin know what's happened - and Sirius, if Snape will have him around. Hell, I'll make my brothers camp on your couch if I have to."

"Why are they doing this?" she demanded. 

"Politics," Ron spat. "I've just come from a very nicely orchestrated meeting. Every element in place to make it look like it hadn't been planned all along." He outlined the meeting, and watched her begin to relax. Belatedly, he realised that he'd been thinking of her as a person for weeks, instead of as simply _Lestrange and Snape's daughter_ or _Borgin's niece_ or _probable Dark witch_. Or _Harry's obsession_.

He studied the girl, and found that he could no longer say whether or not she was a Dark witch in training. Time and familiarity had dulled his initial impression, and she had changed in the weeks he'd known her. He wasn't certain of anything at all, and he didn't like it.

The sounds of footsteps and raised voices came from downstairs. Ron and Lilith both got to their feet and made their way to the landing.

"-Completely unacceptable," Snape was saying. Ron met Michael's eyes as the other Auror looked on helplessly. "What message are they trying to send - that it's Potter or nothing?"

"No. It's that former Death Eaters and their families are no longer deserving of Ministry protection," said Enid quietly. "Or at least, not under _this_ Ministry." 

Ron made his way downstairs. "I'll contact Remus," he said. "And Bill, if you like-"

"Weasley, you will keep your family _far_ away from my home."

"Bill is a qualified curse breaker. He specialises in wards and shielding charms, and you can't handle this place alone."

"Hogwarts castle-"

"Was created to exist in symbiosis with its Headmaster," said Lisa. "Whereas this house was created by Muggles, right? You've warded it well, but it's not _made_ for magic."

Snape scowled. "Owl your brother," he said reluctantly. "Arabella is coming out of hospital tomorrow. I won't have her put herself in danger."

"What about me?" asked Lilith.

"I won't have you put her in danger, either."

Snape turned away; only Ron saw the stricken look on the girl's face.

***

Enid touched Snape's arm as he returned to his office. "We're returning to our traditional routine," she said, "which means I have tomorrow free. I can spend it here, if you like. Lupin's good, and so is Bill Weasley, but you should have someone who's been involved since the beginning."

It was on the tip of Snape's tongue to refuse her, but he found himself saying, "That would be very welcome."

***

The next day Lilith awoke with a sense of overwhelming dread. Aunt Arabella's return would herald nothing good, just a return to strict, critical adult supervision. 

Her mood was not improved by finding that Zabini had joined her father for breakfast. They stopped eating as Lilith entered, and she paused in the doorway.

"What?"

Her father's lip merely curled, while Enid nodded at the newspaper. The _Daily Prophet_ had finally begun repeating the more salacious tabloid rumours, under the guise of a feature article on the First Coterie's handling of the Borgin case.

"They must have had a Ministry source," said Zabini with disgust as Lilith read. "Probably someone from the office of the Minister himself."

Lilith was less concerned with that than the nasty whispers printed about _her_. There was a pile of letters by her plate. She recognised the names of her classmates on several, and she had no doubt they were more curious than concerned.

The Howler arrived as she started on her toast, berating her for destroying Harry Potter's reputation and ruining his life, and threatening her with all sorts of retribution if she ever showed her face in Cornwall. As ashes settled over the table, Lilith risked a glance at her father. His eyes were glittering with fury, and she was briefly scared, before she realised his anger wasn't directed at her.

"Find that woman," he said to Enid. "I will not permit my daughter to be spoken to in this manner."

"No," said Zabini.

"No?"

"No." Zabini sighed. "This isn't an isolated incident. There have been others." Under the accusing gazes of Lilith and her father, she produced a small pile of parchment. "I was planning to give these to you today," she said to Snape.

"And me?" Lilith demanded, "were you planning to show me?"

"No. Actually."

"Typical," Lilith breathed, snatched the first letter from the pile and skimmed it. "Oh." She put it down, grateful that she wasn't prone to blushes.

"The rest are largely similar."

Snape picked the letter up. His lips tightened as he read.

"I have always tried to keep Lilith out of the public eye," he said. "It hasn't been easy, but she's grown up with privacy. And now _this_." He crumpled the letter. "Potter."

"It's not his fault," said Lilith.

"I will not allow this to continue," he said. "Not my daughter � not like this."

"Concentrate on keeping her safe," Enid said. "Worry about playing the paterfamilias when this is all over." She smirked. "I hear Harry's solicitor is rather good when it comes to defamation."

Her father's glare could have curdled milk. 

"Remus Lupin will be here in half an hour," he said. "He and Enid will remain here while I help Arabella leave St Mungo's."

Enid murmured approvingly. Lilith had no desire to see Lupin again if she could avoid it. She slipped upstairs, throwing the parchment in the cold fireplace as she went.

***

The doctors reluctantly discharged Arabella from St Mungo's before lunch. Neville Longbottom hovered anxiously as his supervisor offered advice. Snape glowered at him; disappointingly, Longbottom did not even flinch.

"How is your daughter, Professor?" Longbottom murmured as the doctor and Arabella argued about exercises.

"Very well."

"Harry said-"

"Her safety is no longer Potter's concern. And her health is not yours." _And nor will it ever be_ , he added silently.

"Oh. Good." Longbottom paused. "I read in the _Prophet_ -"

"I wouldn't pay too much attention to the _Prophet._ "

"Oh. Well, good." Longbottom looked as though he wanted to say more, but Arabella and the doctor were finished, and he turned away.

"Good to have you back," Snape told Arabella as they left.

"Has it all fallen apart, then?"

"Well, I've managed to remove Potter from the equation-"

"I do hope you disposed of the body properly," Arabella murmured.

"Other than that, nearly everything is out of my control."

"And what do you propose to do about the _Prophet_?"

Snape said nothing.

"I know you have something up your sleeve, Severus."

"When we get home," he said, "I want you to stay with Lilith for a few hours." He smiled thinly. "I have to pay a visit to Malfoy Manor."  


**Chapter Eighteen**

 

Enid looked up in alarm as they emerged from the Apparition parlour. While Arabella stopped to speak to Lupin, Snape swept upstairs.

"Where are you going?" Enid asked.

"I came to a realisation." He entered his bedroom and pulled a set of business robes from his wardrobe. Enid leaned in the threshold. "Close the door."

She did so.

"You've lost weight," she said as he changed.

"Stress."

"Where are you going?"

"Malfoy Manor."

She sighed. "I'd say Potter's a bad influence, but I'm fairly sure it's the other way around. Or maybe you just feed off each other. Severus, this is _madness_. Harry didn't accomplish anything, and neither will you."

"We have different goals." Snape finished buttoning his robes. "You can't stop me, Enid."

"Be careful, then."

Despite himself, he almost smiled. "Always."

He was halfway down the stairs when she called, "Wait. I'll come with you."

Snape paused, considering her offer. She would likely be reprimanded if the College of Aurors heard of this, and he had no desire to damage her career. On the other hand, she was a good Slytherin: she knew the risks, and Tenebreas Lux had shown no fondness for Malfoy.

"Very well."

Their voices had drawn Lilith out of her room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Do I have to account for my movements? Out."

She paused, looking hurt, but Snape had no time to mollycoddle her.

"Settle down, Lilith," said Arabella. "Come downstairs. Spend some time with us."

Lilith scowled, but Snape gave her a quelling look, and she slouched downstairs. He and Enid made for the Apparition parlour.

Like his father, Draco Malfoy ran his little empire from the Manor, shunning a separate office complex. Unlike his father, the empire in question was mostly legal, if not harmless.

_A free press. Ha. Half the media is so pro-Muggle it makes Harry Potter look like a Death Eater; half advocates the legalisation of the Dark Arts; all of it is dangerous nonsense, and it is entirely owned by one man._

That man greeted Snape and Enid with a slow smile.

"I was wondering if I'd be seeing you, Professor."

"Then you know what I'm here about."

"Your daughter."

Snape sat down uninvited. "I don't care about Potter, but you will instruct your editors to keep their journalists far away from Lilith."

"I can't withhold information from the public, Professor Snape."

"Let me make myself clear, Mr Malfoy. You will find yourself a nice Ministry sex scandal and leave my family alone. And if you don't do so willingly, I will call in higher authorities and force you to move on."

Malfoy frowned as he puzzled this out. "You can't mean Granger."

"Why not?"

"She's - she's-" Malfoy's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes furious. He took a deep breath and calmed down. "That would be an unfortunate step."

"I agree." Snape forced himself to relax. "I certainly wouldn't take such action lightly."

Enid had wandered over to the windows overlooking the Malfoy grounds. She turned back. 

"Other steps could be taken, though," she said. "Potter is � over-enthusiastic, but his instincts are good." 

"You wouldn't dare," said Malfoy.

"Not immediately. I'm rather busy at present." She smiled, and Snape felt a rush of something like affection. "But I don't believe in your 'reformation' for a second. And I'd rather like a proper look around the Manor."

Malfoy scowled. "This is blackmail."

"Well, yes. We're Slytherins, Malfoy. Were you expecting a slap on the wrist and a polite note asking you to be a good boy?"

Snape smirked, and hoped that Malfoy wouldn't see the mirth in his eyes. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed Enid's company.

"Very well," said Malfoy. "I'll leave the Lestrange brat alone. For now, anyway." He tilted his head. "Who knows what she may do in future years, eh?"

Snape did not rise to the bait; to do so would do more harm than good. 

"That's all I ask," he said.

As Snape and Enid made their departure, Malfoy said, "By the way, Zabini, what happened to Potter, following his single-handed attack on my home?"

She smirked. "A slap on the wrist and a polite note asking him to be a good boy."

"As I thought."

***

There was nothing in the _Prophet_ the next day, or the day after that, but two more Howlers arrived, along with a ream of hate mail. Lilith was beginning to get butterflies in her stomach as she dressed for breakfast. She would stare at her plate, unable to eat, ignoring the hateful letters by her plate, while her father criticised everything she did or said.

Three days after Aunt Arabella returned from the hospital, a letter from Hermione Granger arrived.

"Enid told me about your problem," it read, "and my sources in the Offices of Magical Mail tell me there's been no improvement in the situation yet. I can only offer you sympathy, I'm afraid, but I do have some experience in these matters - unfortunately. People have short memories - you'll be forgotten by all but a few crackpots soon, and the crackpots are easy to ignore. Small comfort, of course, but I'm hardly going to lie to you.

"I've been doing some research on Memory Charms, with assistance from St Mungo's (not Dr Longbottom himself, but a close associate, Dr Chilwraith). Unfortunately, I can't think of any way to break the charm without having some idea of what it conceals - and the more research I do, the more I become convinced that we're dealing with multiple charms. All the solutions I've found so far involve extreme mental trauma - and a few Unforgivables - and are clearly unacceptable. Neville, I'm told, has a few alternatives up his sleeve, but he won't agree to see me, and Chilwraith hasn't seen his research. St Mungo's doctors, I'm afraid, are very protective of their work."

A shadow fell over Lilith and she put the parchment down.

"More correspondence?" her father asked, his eyes glittering.

"Hermione Granger. She's researching Memory Charms-"

Snape snatched the letter from her hand and examined it. "More nonsense."

"It's not nonsense. My uncle told Harry-"

"Would you trust them? Potter thinks the world revolves around him, and Borgin-"

"Don't you dare insult them," Lilith snarled. "Harry is the only person in this world that I trust, and my uncle-"

"Is a peddler of faulty charms and any Dark artefact that comes through his hands, and if you think we owe him anything-"

"He protected me!" Lilith cried wildly, "he tried to stop them, he held them off as long as he could-" She stopped, unable to speak. "He told me so," she whispered, "only I can't remember when�"

She looked up at her father, but there was no compassion in his eyes. He gave her a speculative look and said, "How much did he know?"

"Know of what? _I don't remember_." She thought she would explode from the frustration, and her head was beginning to throb. Her vision was blurring. "I need the Analgesic Potion."

"You have it too often. Learn to cope with the pain."

"I've _tried_. I pass out." She was appalled to feel tears trickling down her cheeks; she had always prided herself on her self-control. Her father made no move to comfort her. "Help me."

He didn't move, and through shimmering tears, she thought she saw fear in his eyes. "Help me," she hissed, and he flinched.

"Go up to your room," he ordered, "rest. I need to speak to Arabella."

Lilith staggered out of the room, lingering in the hall until she heard Aunt Arabella's footsteps enter.

"Severus? What's wrong?"

"All our work has come to nothing," Snape spat. "We've failed."

"Surely it's too soon to give up-"

"Too soon? It's too late to hope. That's where we went wrong. It was always too late." His voice was filled with loathing as he said, "I should never have let you persuade me. I shouldn't have allowed her to be born."

Lilith shuddered, groping for the banister and making her way upstairs. She collapsed in her bed, closing her eyes against the spinning room. Her father's voice echoed through her mind: _I shouldn't have allowed her to be born_.

Her stomach lurched, and she held herself still, willing the nausea to pass. _Learn to cope with the pain_ , he'd told her. She had never passed out in his presence, she realised. It had only been at her uncle's shop that the pain grew that bad.

Her headache grew worse; she was on the edge of something she wasn't supposed to remember.

Her uncle had apologised, the night the Aurors took him away. She couldn't remember his exact words, only the shaking of his hands as he poured her tea. It had begun to spill, and he'd put the pot down to flex his ink-stained fingers.

Her arm had been sore; he'd given her a salve to numb it, and hidden the wound with a charm.

Lilith strained after the memory, but everything went white, then black.

It was dark when she woke up. The usual post-migraine headache was duller than usual, or perhaps she was becoming immune to the pain. She was still dressed in her clothes from the previous morning, but someone had tucked a light blanket around her. Lilith clambered out of bed, moving carefully on unsteady feet. 

The bathroom light sent spikes of pain through her head and spine, but she forced herself to endure it. The mirror showed her a gaunt, ugly girl with desperate, red-rimmed eyes. Her mouth was swollen; it looked like she'd bitten her lips.

_I shouldn't have allowed her to be born._

She remembered her uncle's shop, the warm candlelight illuminating the objects within. Knockturn Alley seemed to call to her; she suddenly wanted very much to be in London. 

Lilith washed her face and waited for the last vestiges of dizziness to pass. Then she found her favourite Muggle dress and best shoes. 

She knew what she had to do.

***

Something tugged at Snape's mind; something nagged at his consciousness. Something had changed. He reluctantly woke properly and lay in the darkness, trying to perceive the difference.

He sat up, staring at the Guardian Potion hanging over his window. It still glowed green, but there was something sickly about the colour.

_The wards. The wards have been broken._

Snape picked up his wand and slipped down the hall to Lilith's room. He opened the door, already knowing what he would find.

Her bed was empty. His daughter was gone.

"Arabella." His mouth was dry; he could barely speak. "Arabella!"

Arabella opened her door, pushing stringy white hair out of her face. "Severus, what do you think you're-" She closed her eyes as she saw Lilith's empty room. "She might be downstairs�"

"Don't delude yourself," he snapped. "She's gone. And she left willingly. The wards were broken from within. I should have watched her more closely - I should have taken her wand." 

"I don't think so." Arabella's voice held an echo of the Defence Against the Arts teacher he'd once known and feared. "You've been quite hard enough on her as it is. No wonder she's afraid of you. No wonder she's willing to throw herself in harm's way."

Snape avoided looking at her, returning to his room to dress. "Contact Enid Zabini. Tell her what's happened. Have her send an Auror here. Not Potter or Weasley - anyone else will do, so long as the house is protected."

"What about Enid?" Arabella asked.

He spoke without thinking. "Have her meet me in Knockturn Alley."

***

Catherine gave Harry a weak smile as she opened her front door.

"Thanks for a lovely evening," she murmured. It sounded almost sincere.

"You're welcome."

They stared at each other.

"Well, say hi to Colin for me," she said. 

"I'll do that. Yes, definitely. Enjoy your stay in Paraguay."

"Belize." Her smile turned patronising for a second, before her good manners intervened. "I'm covering the elections. Should be interesting - there might be riots."

"Oh, well, what's an election without riots?" Harry resisted the urge to put his hands in his pockets and rock back and forth on his heels.

"Uh � yeah. Right." Catherine leaned in her doorway. "It was, uh, nice. Very nice. And you should really think about taking up some sports. I mean, live a little. You don't really know you're _alive_ until you've jumped out an aeroplane, right?"

"Right," said Harry. "Yeah, sure. Well, enjoy yourself." He finally turned away, and decided to ignore the small sigh of relief that accompanied the closing of her door.

_Colin Creevey is a dead man_ , he thought as he searched for his car keys.

It wasn't that Catherine wasn't a lovely person, in a tough, brittle sort of way. She seemed nice enough; she was well-groomed, intelligent and quite charming.

_She's just not Lilith._

He dropped his keys.

_Ginny. I meant to say Ginny._

His hands shook as he retrieved the keys and unlocked the car. He sat behind the wheel, staring at the street. One of Catherine's curtains twitched; she was no doubt wondering why he lingered. He turned the key and drove away.

His car was his one overt luxury in the Muggle world; he'd acquired the best on the market, and then enhanced it with charms. It looked new. It smelt new. But the new-car smell was turning his stomach, and his palms were sweating.

He didn't want to go home.

A memory tugged at his mind: Knockturn Alley in the rain. He was off-duty; he had no reason to be there. But at least he would be able to pretend, just for a while, that he was being useful. It was better than spending a night staring at his ceiling, or worse, dreaming again. 

***

She'd lost her nerve. 

It was a simple matter to Floo into Diagon Alley. The street was nearly empty, and the few stragglers from the Leaky Cauldron paid her no attention as she stepped out of the public hearth. But she paused at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, wondering what she would find down there. There was movement in the shadows, and she had the feeling she was being watched.

Lilith turned away, and almost ran into the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was closed by now, but the entrance to Muggle London remained open, and she escaped into the larger city, choosing her direction at random. 

And now something was following her. 

Lilith suppressed the impulse to freeze and turn around, or worse, to flee. She gripped her wand more tightly and quickened her pace.

She had no idea where she was going.

More worryingly, she didn't have much idea where she was. She'd forgotten how busy Muggle cities were, and how extensive. She'd never been permitted to explore them properly, and her knowledge of the geography ended several blocks away from Charing Cross Road.

Footsteps crunched behind her, and a male voice slurred, "How's about spendin' some time w'me, girlie?"

Lilith didn't turn around. Her wand was heavy in her hand, but she was afraid to use it. She wouldn't be expelled for a first offence, but the Ministry would surely find her. And then she would be returned to her father's care.

The drunken man mumbled obscenities, mingled with a graphic critique of Lilith's figure. Her courage gave out. She'd run down the length of the block and stumbled into an alley before she realised the man hadn't followed her. He simply stood on the footpath, swaying and muttering.

A voice in her mind whispered, _You'll never survive out here. Not alone. Not without magic._

She pictured herself turning up on Ron and Hermione's doorstep. They'd probably even let her stay, or at least pass her on to whichever branch of the Weasley family had a spare bed. But sooner or later, she'd have to return to Hogwarts.

She'd never escape her father.

_He's not good for you_ , her uncle had told her, the first time she visited him. _He's not particularly good_ to _you, either. One day, you'll leave him forever._ He'd smiled slightly. _Perhaps you'll come to me._

For a wild moment, she entertained the idea of finding him, of somehow helping him evade pursuit. They could leave the country, make their own way.

_And what would happen next? He'd bring you into the Dark Order. You'd be a Dark witch. Just like mother._

Lilith shivered. She'd hardly thought of her mother for the last couple of weeks, but now Eugenia sprang up in her mind. It was surely impossible to remember the sound of her voice, the tilt of her head as she spoke, but Lilith could see her clearly.

_That's not what you want to be. It's not._

But there was something compelling about the image nonetheless. If she could overcome her migraines and master the power the Dark Arts offered, she'd never have to fear anyone again. 

_Except Potter_ , something inside of her hissed. _He's defeated us once already�_

Her head began to throb again. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank to her haunches, waiting for the pain to pass.

Something moved in the air around her. Lilith jumped to her feet, but a spell pinned her to the wall as an Invisibility Cloak slipped away, revealing the pale, lined face of Lucas Burke.

"Hello, Lilith," he said evenly, bringing his wand to rest against her throat. "You've been quite the troublemaker, did you know that?"

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

Knockturn Alley rustled with illicit deals and Dark magic. Snape lingered in the shadows beside a pawn shop and watched the movement around him. A prostitute gave him a hopeful glance, but fell back when she recognised him.

"Sorry, Professor," she muttered, moving on. She'd been his student twelve years ago, he remembered. Her family had lost everything in the war, and she was too lazy and inept a witch to make much of a living outside Hogwarts. It had never occurred to her to work in the Muggle world, and she'd recoiled when he suggested it. Her family clung tenaciously to their stupidity, even when it was blindingly obvious they'd picked the wrong side-

_She refused your help then. She made her choices._

He was distracted by footsteps; turning, he gave Enid an irritated look.

"I thought you Aurors were supposed to be subtle."

"That was before we fell under the spell of Potter," she murmured. "I'd expected to find you tearing the street apart."

"Look." He pointed at Borgin and Burke's. A light flickered in a window above the shop. 

"There are Magical Law Enforcement guards in there-"

"Are there? A man entered about ten minutes ago. He lit that lamp."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes." He hesitated. "I think so. It was difficult to see. But unless the Ministry's agent is dead, the College isn't the only organisation with a traitor or two."

Enid swore.

"Lilith could be in there," she said at last. "A prisoner, in the dark � alone for a few hours�"

"We don't know that. We've no evidence that she didn't leave of her own accord. I'm gambling, Enid."

"Borgin could have compelled her somehow. A Dark Summons, perhaps - new magic, but effective. Or there are contact-based potions that work like Imperius when you touch them-"

"I know. I invented one, once." Out of habit - surely out of habit - his left hand twitched. "I saw no sign of a letter. Enchanted or otherwise."

"She might have taken it with her, or destroyed it � you can't just assume that she left of her own accord-"

"Why not? I did. Ran away from home at fifteen and spent my summers with anyone who'd take me."

Enid said nothing.

"She's a fool," he said. "Stupid child�"

"Wait until we get her home," Enid said. " _Then_ deliver the lecture." She drew her wand. "Even if Lilith's not in there, there'll no doubt be someone with information to share."

***

"You know who I am?" 

She could not speak, but managed a nod. Burke examined her, like her father assessing a slow-brewing potion.

"Of course you know," he said, "those Memory Charms aren't foolproof, and the Granger Mudblood has no doubt been poking around�"

Burke drew a small knife from his robes and sliced her arm open, watching with detached interest as the blood fell to the ground.

"Not under Polyjuice,then. Severus has been careless indeed." 

"I know you," Lilith choked, "I don't remember how�"

"Don't you?" Burke's thin mouth curved upwards. "Well, let's keep it that way. Janus thinks you're tame, he thinks we can play with your mind and send you back to your father \- but I don't believe it." His hand tightened around his wand. "Av-"

A crash echoed through the alley. Lilith dared to look away from Burke, and saw the silhouette of a man leaning against a building.

It was the drunk from before, following her at last. "Never want me," he mumbled.

Burke was momentarily distracted. Lilith wrenched herself out of his grip and ran. He gave an inarticulate cry and raised his wand again. This time, she was ready for him.

"Expelliarmus!"

Caught unawares - and it was with grim satisfaction that she realised he hadn't even expected her to fight back \- Burke was thrown across the alley. Lilith hesitated, wondering if she should take his wand, which lay on the ground a few feet away. He gave her a malevolent look and moved towards it. Lilith abandoned thought and ran, pushing the befuddled drunk out of the way. She was dimly aware of the traffic around her, of the blood trickling down her arm, but she did not stop moving until a car pulled over and a familiar voice called, "Lilith?"

She dropped to her knees, unable to hold herself upright any longer.

"Burke," she said. "Tried to kill me. Back there."

Harry's face was grim.

"In the car," he said. "Stay down - I'll put a Concealment Charm on you. Where's Burke now?"

"I don't know. I thought he was following me - he was in an alley�"

Harry nodded, locked his car and ran back the way she'd come.

***

The door opened to little more than an " _Alohomora_ ". Snape's unease increased; surely Borgin was not so arrogant as to assume that no one would notice the signs of occupation around the shop.

_Unless he's expecting visitors._

He wanted to stop, to pull Enid back and return with a full Coterie, but she was already slipping into the shop. He followed reluctantly.

"Upstairs," she mouthed. They made their way into the office behind the store. It had been stripped almost bare by the Aurors, and the security charms prevented even dust from settling on surfaces. A staircase led upstairs, partially illuminated by a flickering light from the flat.

Enid leaned over, and her breath brushed Snape's ears as she whispered, "How well do you know this place?"

"I spent a summer here when I was sixteen. I doubt it's changed much-"

They both froze as the ceiling creaked. 

"He's taking too long," a woman's voice said, "he's run off again. I told you he was a traitor."

"That's Ida Crumble," Enid whispered, "Magical Law Enforcement." Her eyes glittered dangerously in the dark.

"Relax," said a familiar male voice, "Lucas does things in his own way. But he'll bring her back. He - he gave me his word."

"As if that were worth anything," said Crumble. "We'll never get another opportunity like this again."

"I have faith in Lucas."

Enid clenched her fists, looking as though she was ready to march up the stairs and arrest them on the spot. 

"I hope that's a comfort to you when you're explaining your latest failure to-" 

Snape caught her arm, the floorboards creaking under his feet.

Crumble paused. "Did you hear that?"

Severus and Enid both froze.

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard something downstairs."

"Lucas?" called Borgin. "Do you have her?"

"Quiet. You'll get us all-"

"You're paranoid, Ida. And hearing things."

Crumble swore, her footsteps moving over the ceiling. Severus and Enid drew their wands.

A shadow moved towards the staircase. Enid drew Severus into the shadows beneath the stairs. He was reminded of Potter's childhood, and banished the unwanted thought.

Crumble descended and paused, obviously uncertain.

"Is anyone there? Burke?"

"Stupefy!" hissed Enid, and Crumble dropped.

From upstairs there was a whisper, and silence. Snape moved out from the cubbyhole, and saw Borgin's shadow approach the stairs. He readied himself to strike at the very moment Borgin was within range-

There were two quiet pops, and by the time Snape had spun around, Borgin had already uttered his curse. Snape fell back, winded, blood trickling down his cheek.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Enid cried, but Borgin blocked her spell.

" _Crucio_ ," he said casually, and turned to duel Snape as she collapsed. They traded curses, their incantations punctuated by Enid's screams. Snape managed to dilute the force of Borgin's spell until her cries became whimpers, but he was acutely aware that he was a single man fighting one of the most dangerous wizards in Britain. And the presence of an Auror, even incapacitated, inhibited him from using more extreme measures, even as the old habits tugged at his soul.

The duel had surely only lasted five minutes when, over Borgin's shoulder, he saw Enid pull herself to her knees.

"Tell me, Borgin," he said by way of distraction, "what do you really want with my daughter?"

Borgin enchanted a tray of knives to fly at their target.

"You should know. You may have weakened her power-" He broke off as Snape, ignoring the lacerations on his face and arms, sent one knife back at him.

Enid was on her feet, wand raised, when a new figure Apparated in behind her.

"Janus," Lucas Burke howled, "Disapparate, you fool! We don't have time for this!"

"Do you-"

"Don't waste time."

Snape's hand closed around Borgin's shoulder as he Disapparated, leaving him clutching thin air. Enid's breathing slowed as the Cruciatus curse finally lifted.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked.

"Fine." Her hands were shaking and her voice was hoarse, but he detected no permanent damage. "You're bleeding."

"A trifle. We have to-"

"Go home, Severus. I'll call the others out, but I really think you should go home." She took his arm, not only for his own comfort. "Most runaways do come back, you know. And she isn't running from the same things you did."

Snape wanted to argue, to storm out of Knockturn Alley into Muggle London and continue his search there. But his face and robes were sticky with blood, and Enid was now shaking violently. 

"Call your Coterie," he said at last. "Secure this building. Then we'll both go home."

She gave him a weak smile, and didn't argue.

"Oh," he added, "one other thing." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't call Potter. I don't want him involved with this." She scowled, and he played his trump card. "Please."

Enid exhaled heavily, but he already knew he'd won. 

***

Harry had feared he would return to the car and find Lilith absent, but she remained curled up in the front seat, clutching a parchment and looking unhappy.

"I didn't find Burke," he said. "Just a derelict with an interesting story. He described Burke pretty well - I cast a Memory Charm before I left."

"Just what we need. More witnesses who can't remember what they saw."

"He was a Muggle, Lilith. I have to follow the rules."

"When it suits you." She stared down at her hands. "I imagine it makes you feel quite powerful, having all that control over someone's memory."

Lacking an adequate response, Harry changed the subject. "What's the parchment?"

"A letter from the Ministry. Underage magic."

"Oh. Them."

"I'll never be able to escape," she said. "The Ministry can follow me anywhere, and my father is almost as bad. I thought I could get away."

"Oh, certainly, there's your solution." Harry was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Run away, leave the rest of us to wonder if the Dark Order would find you before the Ministry. Though we have our answer now, don't we?"

"Don't yell at me-"

"I'm not yelling! I'm being perfectly reasonable! You could have been killed, and we'd never even know." He stopped, imagining the fruitless search through the magical and Muggle words, through hospitals and morgues�

"It was selfish," he said quietly.

"I told you not to yell."

"Your father would kill me if anything happened to you."

"Don't be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with you."

"He's been looking for an excuse for years." She raised her head and stared at him, her eyes enormous and stricken. Humour falling flat, he said, "your dad would be devastated if anything happened to you."

"Possibly. For a while. But in the end, it would be the answer to his prayers." She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and he saw that her arm was bleeding. "He wishes I'd never been born. I heard him say so-"

"You might have-"

"Those were his exact words. 'I should never have allowed her to be born.'" She mimicked Snape's tones.

"I'm sure there's more to the issue-"

"Of course. But that's really all I needed to know. I was an inconvenience then, and I'm a liability now." Her voice cracked.

Harry said, "I should get you home."

"Don't. Please."

"Lilith, I can't help you run away. As much � as much as I understand your reasons � hell, I'd take you off to South America, or Canada, or New Zealand myself if I thought it would help you - we don't have all the facts about this situation. And running away will only put yourself in more danger." She relaxed slightly. "I'll take you back to my flat. Get you cleaned up. You can sleep on my couch. I'll let your father know you're safe, and you won't have to go back until tomorrow."

She sighed, and nodded in consent.

***

Potter lived in a fashionable end of London, in a building so perfectly merged with the Muggle world around it that it took Lilith several minutes to realise it was truly a magical construction at all. 

The air of sophistication ended at the threshold of his flat; inside his home was messy, with an abandoned feeling that made her think he didn't spend much time there. Looking around, she could understand why: there were photos of his wife on the mantelpiece, and a magical clock whose _Ginny_ arm stood slack.

"The bathroom's this way," said Harry. 

"I don't-"

"You're bleeding." She hadn't even noticed until he pointed it out, but blood was running down her arm, staining her clothes. She wondered if she'd left marks in his car.

Harry's bathroom felt as disused as the rest of the flat, though a damp towel was hanging over a rack, and a spare pair of glasses on the bench. He cleaned and healed the cut with a competence that impressed her; but then, an Auror would be practiced at this sort of thing. All that remained of the wound was a pink scar running down her left arm, and a stretched feeling in the skin around it.

"Thank you," she said.

"It was nothing." They stared at each other. "I should take you home."

"No," she said quickly. "I don't want to go back."

He gave a short laugh. "I don't blame you. But I'm sorry - I have an obligation." 

She pointed to his blood-stained shirt. "You're injured, too. You should fix that. Your blood is special."

He snorted. "Not half as much as some people would like to think. But you're right - I'll be out in a few minutes." He did not wait for her to leave before he began removing his shirt; she caught a glimpse of white, scarred skin before she left.

By instinct and habit, she moved towards the bookshelf. Potter had more books than she'd imagined. She'd always had the impression that he read nothing but Quidditch biographies. Those books were there, but they stood alongside Muggle novels and, more surprisingly, Muggle non-fiction. Lilith ran a hand over the unfamiliar books, uncomfortably aware of the wealth of knowledge she'd abandoned when she left her Muggle school for Hogwarts.

Two battered old shoeboxes stood on the lowest shelf. Lilith hesitated a moment, but Potter was still in the bathroom. She drew the boxes towards her.

The first was full of photos, the sort that were too off-kilter to go into a proper album. There were dozens of blurry snapshots, many taken with a Muggle camera: three gangly teenagers standing in a Muggle backyard with a man who could only be Granger's father. 

Other photos bore the distinctive style of Colin Creevey. Three children stood outside the groundskeeper's hut, cheerfully enduring a hug from the late Rubeus Hagrid. The Gryffindor Quidditch team waved at the camera; one Weasley twin was making an obscene gesture, until Angelina Johnson noticed and smacked him. There were also a few clippings from newspapers, including a 1994 photo of Harry with Viktor Krum, a beautiful blonde girl, and a handsome boy she didn't recognise. 

Lilith sorted through more pictures: Ron and Hermione clung to each other on a beach and laughed, while a small wave lapped at their feet; Colin and Dennis Creevey stood together in what looked like the Gryffindor common room. There was a large, gloriously coloured photo of Albus Dumbledore, flanked by Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. Lilith had seen a similar photo, taken in the same session, but it was easy to see why this one was rare: Dumbledore was offering Snape a lollipop, which he emphatically refused, while McGonagall looked amused.

At the bottom of the box was a Muggle photo of a family: a fat man, a lean, simpering woman, and their plump son. It took Lilith a few moments to identify them; the Dursleys had never been pictured in any of Harry's biographies.

She closed the box and listened. No noise came from the bathroom; Harry was moving around in what must be the bedroom. She selected the other box.

It was filled with parchment, newspaper clippings and normal paper, more than Lilith would have believed the box could hold. She sifted through it with her hand, trying to reach the end of the Extension Charm. Her arm went in up to her elbow before she hit the bottom. She selected a piece of paper at random.

_Dear Harry,  
My son Jason was killed by You-Know-Who in 1979, and I've come to feel like you're his replacement, a new little boy for our family�_

_Dear Mr Potter,  
I've never written to a celebrity before, but your heroism has given hope to everyone�_

_�all our hopes are on you�_

_�I pray every day that you'll live long enough to fulfil your duties, we all depend on you�_

There were darker letters, too: anonymous notes accusing him of killing his classmates, listing Hogwarts students who had died in Death Eater attacks.

_Cedric Diggory_ , Lilith realised, _that's who the other boy was._

These letters were like poison in writing - in fact, she suspected some of the ink was poisonous, from the way it made her hands tingle.

_I don't think you're a hero at all, my brother's friends died and you don't care one bit�_

There was also a series of newspaper articles, revealing that Potter spoke Parseltongue, and insinuating that he was Slytherin's heir. Debates raged in letters to the editor, preserved forever in this box. Lilith found newspaper clippings dated right up until the death of Virginia Potter. After that, the record ended.

"I lost heart after that," said Potter behind her. Lilith hadn't heard him leave his room, but he showed no anger at her intrusions. He sat down beside her. "I don't know why I kept all of these," he said. "Perhaps I couldn't bear to throw them out."

"They're horrible. Even the nice ones."

"Not all of them. Some of these people have poured their souls out on a few bits of parchment. Told me things they've never told their own families. There's a murder confession in here. An old man who killed his brother-in-law eighty years ago. I tried to find him but he died a week after he sent the letter."

"They treat you like a possession. As if you're a toy to be used or discarded, or loved or beaten�"

He smiled. "I bet you were horrible to your dolls."

"Most of them. My little family of four." There was one she'd loved, little more than a scrap of rag from Aunt Arabella's childhood. That one, she had loved above all else. But thinking about Missy Jane made her throat tighten, and she changed the subject. "You must hate it. Everyone thinks they know you."

"Sometimes. But there are lots of things I've managed to keep to myself."

"Tell me." Lilith leaned forward. "Tell me something that no one else knows."

For a moment, she thought she'd crossed a line, but then he began speaking.

"Most people seem to think I fell in love with my wife when I was eleven, but I barely even noticed her until I was fifteen. We sort of became friends that year, but that was all. She'd been madly infatuated with me when we were younger � it was a bit embarrassing, really.

"Everything kind of dropped away after I defeated Voldemort. The cost had been too high, and it took me a while to recover. Still, life had to go on � I started playing Quidditch professionally when I was about twenty.

"Ginny was around then, of course, all the Weasleys were. But they all had their own lives, and Ron and Hermione were being obnoxiously romantic. Ginny and I were rather thrown together. We shared a house for a while, the four of us. It was fun.

"I can't tell you when I fell in love with her � it just hit me one day. At Ron and Hermione's wedding, in fact. Halfway through Mr Granger's toast. So I waited until the party was dying down, and did what any drunk young man would do. I asked her to marry me."

He laughed at the memory.

"She said no. Emphatically, inarguably no. How dare I do that to her, when I was her best friend - didn't I understand the boundaries? I may as well propose to Hermione, she said, for all the good it would do. Anyway, I might be a great hero, but I was turning into a Quidditch lout, and she was starting to wonder if I had any substance at all. 

"Ron and Hermione had moved out, of course, and Ginny and I were free to settle down into a three day argument. I don't think I'd ever heard Ginny yell so much - there was no doubt she was Molly's daughter. I called her a harridan, she said I was a prat � neither of us were happy. I kept waiting for the moment when we'd fall into bed, but that only shows how many bad Muggle movies I'd been watching. Instead, we just stopped talking to each other. For weeks, we'd only ever see each other for a few minutes at a time.

"But I'd listened to what she said. I started reading books again, and taking an interest in things beyond Quidditch. We started going out to dinner, and parties, public sort of things. We spent a lot of time together. The next time I proposed, I was sober and she was ready. She said yes." His smile contained a shadow of the joy Lilith had seen in photos from his marriage. "It's not a very interesting story, but there it is. We were married. We were happy. And she died."

"How," said Lilith. "Tell me about her death."

His smile faded, and he drew an unsteady breath and began to speak.

"She was a researcher, specialising in magical archaeology. And Dark artefacts. She had a talent for those. I used to worry about her, but she said I was overreacting." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know exactly how she died. She was asked to look at an artefact � the archaeologists called it Aladdin's lamp, but it didn't hold a genie. There was something in it, she knew that. And the more she studied it, the more it took hold of her.

"In her notes, she called it Tom." 

"That's not possible."

"Why not? He'd poured himself into inanimate objects before. The 'lamp' hadn't been touched since 1962, though it was a lot older. I can assure you, it's quite possible." Harry shook his head. "I knew something was happening. I started having the dreams the day after she got the lamp. And the more Voldemort insinuated himself into Ginny, the stronger they got. But I was away from home a lot, hunting the Cabal. In the end, she had no one to turn to."

"Surely Granger-"

"That wasn't Ginny's way. Weasleys don't ask for help. But I should have seen."

Lilith touched his hand, and he flinched. "How did she die?"

"She killed herself." He closed his eyes for a minute. "There. I've never said it out loud before."

"Harry-"

He went on speaking, unhearing. "Voldemort was insinuating himself into her soul, but she fought him. She did � he made her do things - but she held her own long enough to destroy the 'lamp'. I'm not sure if she knew she'd die as well. I don't think so. She'd � I think she'd have left a note."

"You found the body."

"I'll never forget it."

"Why didn't they do something? No one knows any of this."

"Her family knows, and Sirius. The Ministry hushed it up. They had their reasons � none of them good. She did make one call for help, you see, close to the end. To the College of Aurors. And they ignored her. They left her to die. After she was dead � well, there was a cursory investigation, but no one would admit that Voldemort had tried to rise again. They're still afraid to say his name. They'd have called it a suicide, except that the press got it into their heads that _I'd_ killed her�" His lip curled. "Malfoy. Again. In the end, the Ministry called it a murder. I didn't mind. Sometimes, I think it's true." Very softly, he said, "I don't know what I think anymore."

He fell silent, staring at the box of letters. After a long time, he packed them up and put them back.

"You know, I've never told anyone the full story before," he said. "People just assume they know."

"How do you feel, then?"

"Better. I've been a bit, uh, depressed, since she died." He regarded her. "After your uncle - and everyone else he's dealing with - is out of the way, I'm planning to retire."

Lilith shifted, rubbing her foot, which had gone to sleep. "Why?"

"Just can't do it any more. Burn-out, Hermione will call it. That's a Muggle phrase, it means-"

"I know what it means."

"I've always felt like I owe something to the world. Starting with my parents � I don't know where it ends. Everyone owns me, or thinks they do."

"You should be selfish, then. If only for a little while."

"Hermione says the same thing."

"She's very clever."

"And you? What will you do when this is over?"

Lilith shrugged. "Go to school, I suppose. Put up with my father for as long as I have to. Then I'm leaving. I'm going to a Muggle university, and I'm never coming back."

"That's a big decision to make at fifteen."

"I feel older," she said softly.

He studied her for a moment, leaning forward. She moved towards him, heart pounding. The tension in her shoulders eased as their lips touched. Harry stiffened, and Lilith thought he was going to pull away. They parted for a moment, then Harry murmured, "What the hell," and kissed her again.

His mouth was warm, insistent but not unpleasant. He took a possessive hold on her wrist and drew her closer, nuzzling at her ear and jawline. They parted, and he whispered, "You're so young." He ran a hand along her collarbone, and she shivered. There was a flash of red in his eyes as he said, "but I could teach you � you would learn so well. My willing apprentice."

Lilith pulled her arm away. "What do you mean?"

He pushed her away roughly and stared at her in horror.

"What are you doing to me?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?"

He stood up. "What the hell are you?"

She had no words.

**Chapter Twenty**

 

Lilith stared up at him, eyes wide and injured, and all Harry could think was, _She looks like someone has destroyed her. You did that. You._

"I haven't done anything," she said, "I just-"

"You're _fifteen_."

"You kissed me." Now she was regaining her hauteur, or at least attempting to draw the façade about herself. "You just - I wasn't sure - it might have been a mistake \- but you kissed me like you meant it."

"I can't mean it." He reached out to touch her, then stopped and stepped back. "You're too young. I _can't_ want you."

"So you just throw me away? Just what was it you imagined you could teach me, anyway?"

"Nothing you haven't already learnt from Borgin and Burke, I expect. It's all there, locked away in your mind � all we have to do is find your uncle."

"I don't want you to," she said. "I'd prefer it stayed locked away forever, and then I could have some peace."

"It's usually better to get these things out in the open."

"Usually. Not always. As you've amply demonstrated tonight, I think." She curled herself up on the couch.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. I suppose you are."

Harry sat down at the other end of the couch, making sure there was space between them. 

"I haven't felt anything much since Ginny died," he said, "not until I met you."

"I've never felt anything at all until this summer. I won't be fifteen forever, you know."

"I'm starting to think your father might have more reasons to keep us apart than he's letting on."

"No doubt."

"Nice of him to tell _us_." She smiled weakly at that. "I'm just worried that you're in danger, and I'm the only one who sees it properly."

"What if _you're_ the danger?"

Harry looked away. "I never wanted to have anyone say that to me."

"I trust you. In spite of-"

"I'm the last person you should trust, Lilith."

She didn't meet his gaze.

"Whatever might be lurking in your mind," she said, "or your soul � you've never actually hurt me. Nor do I believe you would." Her laugh was rather brittle as she added, "anyway, no one else will ever want me."

"That's not true."

"Then you really do need those glasses, Potter. I'm neither beautiful nor charming, and I don't care to pretend. I'm my father's daughter. The only people who'll ever want me are morons like Steve Weasley. And you."

"I think I'm the biggest moron in England right now," Harry said. "I'm losing my mind. I'm slipping away � I don't know what I'm becoming. I'm sorry. I'm the last person in the world who should help you." He stood up. "I should take you back to your father. Who will no doubt solve all my problems by eviscerating me on the spot."

"He won't find out."

"He finds out about everything, sooner or later." Harry glanced at the fireplace, which obligingly sprang to life. "Come on. Let's get you home."

***

Snape allowed Marion to heal his injuries, then dismissed her from his study. She let reluctantly, giving him a curious look as she closed the door. Snape ignored it; she would find out what had happened with the rest of the Aurors.

He sat behind his desk, alone in the dark, and considered the situation.

He would not contemplate the worst case scenario, where Borgin found Lilith. Or where she had willingly gone to him. He would not think of it, though he could imagine few worse possibilities.

There was a rush of soot from the fireplace, and Lilith emerged, alive and without visible injury, though her clothes were torn. Snape leapt to his feet, struggling to contain his anger \- and pleasure - at seeing her safe.

"You're back, then," he said carefully.

"I'm back."

Her eyes were glittering, and she would not meet his gaze. So someone had found her, then. Found her, changed her, and sent her back to him. His own snake in the nest.

There was another rush of soot, and Potter emerged.

"Found something of yours, Professor," he said. His tone did not quite match his light words, and like Lilith, he would not meet Snape's eyes.

Severus took a step forward, and sensed the subtle, familiar taint of the Dark Arts. He stared at Potter in horror, a thousand possibilities suggesting themselves. None were good.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing," said Potter, "nothing." 

Snape found himself making sure that his wand was close to hand. He took in the scene again, the mingled guilt and danger that radiated from Potter, the way Lilith followed him with her eyes, and the calculated distance between them.

He saw it all, and he understood.

"Low, Potter," he said, "even for you."

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me!" he snapped. "It's written in your face - and hers." Snape nodded at Lilith, who stared back, statue-like. "So bloody arrogant, Potter. The rules have never applied to you. But I'd have thought you'd have enough common decency to leave my _child_ alone."

"Father-"

"Quiet, Lilith. Go upstairs and pack your things. I'm taking you up to Hogwarts. I've had enough of the College of Aurors."

"She won't be safe at Hogwarts," Potter said, "she's not safe anywhere." He struggled. "Least of all with me."

"Then why are you still here?" Snape said in icy tones.

"Because I'm the only person here who understands what she's going through."

"Are you, indeed? Well, I'm sure we'll all bow to your superior knowledge-"

Potter drew his wand, and Snape tensed, pulling his from his sleeve. They stood, both frozen. Potter was breathing hard, and Snape sensed that they were equally reluctant to engage in a duel.

Still, he did not back down.

"Do what you like, boy," he said. "Remember, I taught you."

Lilith whimpered, and Potter lowered his hand.

"Leave," Snape said. Still shaking, Potter Disapparated.

"You wouldn't have hurt him," Lilith whispered.

"Not pre-emptively," he grunted. "Go and get your things. You've completely destroyed the wards. We're not staying here." 

Watching her retreating back, he wanted to follow, to make certain that Potter had not harmed a single hair on her head.

He remained where he was. 

Any harm that came to her would be his own fault. How many had he trained in the Dark Arts, seduced away from their parents and moulded into loyal servants of the Dark Lord? A dozen, perhaps.

Most were dead. 

As for their parents, he had no idea.

He went to tell Enid and Marion of his plans.

***

Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table, surrounded by books and a half-eaten piece of toast. She looked up as Harry entered, her smile giving way to a look of concern.

"Harry, what's happened to you?" 

He glanced down at his clothes. His shirt had been clean a few hours ago, but now it was damp from sweat and covered in dust. He wasn't sure how long he'd spent tramping aimlessly through the Oxfordshire countryside, alternately nourishing and attempting to control his temper. He didn't want to return to his flat; he'd Apparated to Ron and Hermione's home instead. With his dress pants still damaged from the fight in London, and his suit jacket hanging over his shoulder, he must look like a madman.

"Rough night." 

"I can see that. Tea?"

"Please."

She busied herself with the teapot, watching him surreptitiously through her messy hair. "Are you all right?"

"Not especially."

"Tell me about it."

Harry hesitated; he'd come here for this very purpose, but he was lost for words. He was tired, and rather empty.

"You're looking well," he said.

"Don't change the subject."

"You are. All blooming and, um, pregnant."

"I feel very strange," she said, pouring the water into the teapot. "Occupied, I suppose." She touched her belly self-consciously. "At least the potions for morning sickness help � provided I don't think about what goes into them."

"Ginny couldn't take any Stomach Soothing Potions."

"A lot of people can't."

"We were talking about having kids when she died."

"I know. She was telling me \- not that we spoke much in the weeks before - she did tell me."

"Nothing's been the same since she died."

Hermione put a cup of tea in front of him, and took his hands. "I know, Harry."

He took a deep breath. "I saw Lilith last night. She tried to run away."

"Poor girl. It can't be easy for her. Is she all right?"

"Snape wants to lock her up in Hogwarts castle, but she'll be fine." Harry stared at his hands. "I kissed her," he said.

Hermione snatched her hands away and stood up, almost knocking her chair over in her haste.

"How could you," she said. "Harry could you - your principles - your judgement - Harry, she's only _fifteen_."

"I know. I know."

"People trust you, Harry. We need you to do the right thing."

"And what about doing the right thing just because it's right?"

"You know I didn't mean-"

"I'm just tired of hearing about my obligations, okay? I'm tired."

Hermione slowly sat down. "I wouldn't have expected this of you."

"Me, neither."

"I mean, I lectured you, but that's because you never think about appearances � I trusted you. Harry, _why_?"

He sipped his tea. "Because she was there. Because I wanted to, and I could, and she let me."

"She's too young to understand-"

"I know that. I stopped. I took her back to her father. She must hate me, now. She looked furious." He hesitated. "That � might be a good thing. I want to teach her, Hermione."

"Teach�? Oh. Dear"

"I can't even look at her without wanting her, and what closer bond is there than between Dark mentor and apprentice?"

"Lots," said Hermione, "and if you weren't so caught up in being an adolescent prat, you'd remember that. The Dark Arts only create co-dependence. You'd eat each other alive, and there'd be nothing left but husks. Friendship, Harry, and love. Parenthood and companionship, _life_. Anything that comes from Darkness like that is tainted."

"Am I, then? Is she?"

She touched his hand. "It's not hereditary. You and she - you're just like other people. You have choices."

"I wish Dumbledore was here," Harry said. "Everything went wrong after he died. I'm still repairing the damage."

"You don't have to do it alone. We're always here for you."

"You have your own lives, you and Ron. And if I went down, I wouldn't want to take your children with me."

"Oh, Harry, one way or another, we'd all be the first victims. Do you think I've no idea of what you're going through? You're not the only one who made some trips to the Restricted Section. After Malfoy-" She broke off, shuddering. "We've all made mistakes."

"I didn't know." Harry said.

"I know. It was Professor Snape who put an end to it. He was � quite decent, by his standards."

"Lucky you."

"I know. I was never _Apprenticed_ , but I do understand."

"Do you? I don't." Harry began to pace. "Nothing has made sense this summer."

"Explain it to me, then. Everything."

"I thought you knew everything that went on in Great Britain."

"Quite a bit. But I want to hear it from you."

Harry paused for thought, and then began to speak.

"It changed after I met Lilith, but not immediately. I wasn't attracted to her � drawn, though. We have a lot in common."

"Yes, I suppose you do. Go on."

"I guess I'd have let it go if it weren't for the Diagon Alley attack. But then I realised - or I decided \- that I had an obligation to keep her safe." 

He paused, waiting for Hermione's old "You have to get over this hero-complex" lecture, but all she said was, "Go on."

"Well, the dreams started. Odd dreams. Usually about Voldemort, and Eugenia. And Snape, and everything I've learnt. And Lilith. Very much about Lilith." He frowned. "So I avoided her for a couple of days, but then there was that threat in the tabloids, and I started to stick close by her."

"And you became friends?"

He smiled ruefully. "Yeah. I guess we did. Only there was this � thing between us. I did know she, um, fancied me. But she wasn't embarrassing about it. It was okay."

"And anyway, you rather liked the idea."

"Well, yeah. Um." Harry rubbed his nose.

"So when did the Dark Arts get mixed up in this? For you personally, I mean."

"I've no idea," said Harry. "Um � I guess it kind of began with the dreams, but I've been having \- trouble - for a few months." He shrugged. "It's always tempting, you know. Especially in my line of work."

"I understand. But�" Hermione was leaning forward, a gleam in her eye. "Harry," she said, "you don't drink from a hip-flask, do you?"

"No. No one wants to be _that_ paranoid � even when we should."

"Ron says the same thing. And you accepted a cup of tea from me, earlier."

"Yeah, but I trust you."

"But for all you know," she said, "the real Hermione Granger is stuffed in a closet somewhere, and I've been under Polyjuice all this time."

"I've been here an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Well, yes, but it wasn't that long when you drank your tea."

"You think I've been poisoned? No, wait - you think it's a Love Potion, don't you?"

"I don't know what I think, yet. Some Love Potions are about two steps away from being Dark themselves, but I can't think how they'd increase your susceptibility to using Dark magic � are your pupils dilated?"

"How am I supposed to know? Here, have a look." Harry removed his glasses and allowed Hermione to peer into his eyes.

"They're normal," she said, sounding almost disappointed, "so it's probably not a Love Potion. How's your scar?"

Harry moved away from her questing hand. "Throbs sometimes."

"Any sharp pain?"

"Not often. Well, sometimes. Usually when I'm dreaming."

"Hmm. Dreams. She tilted her head. "You came to my office. You wanted my advice about Memory Charms, but we also discussed-"

"Dream Magic," Harry breathed.

"Oneiromancy is very rare in England. It hasn't been taught at Hogwarts for over a century."

"But Beauxbatons teaches it."

"And the Beauxbatons Defence Against Black Magic teacher was a Dark Witch." She frowned. "Not a particularly competent one, according to Professor Snape, but he has very high standards of competence. Who knows how many students she'd corrupted before she tipped her hand?"

Harry shifted. "I had lunch with Gabrielle Delacour-Malfoy right before the attack on Diagon Alley."

Hermione froze. "Oh, but Gabrielle wouldn't - I mean, she's our friend, even if she is married to - anyway, haven't we dealt with Malfoy already?"

"If by 'dealing with Malfoy' you mean 'going off half-cocked and embarrassing myself and the College', yeah. I have." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't want it to be Gabrielle," he said. "I don't like being unable to trust my friends."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but between this and the attack on the College, I'm afraid you're going to have to. And remember, one of your colleagues is a traitor." 

"I haven't forgotten." 

Hermione stood up and began to make another pot of tea. "I'll send a couple of owls and find out whether Gabrielle studied Oneiromancy when she was at Beauxbatons."

"She was only there for a few years. She couldn't be particularly adept, even if she did study it."

"Even so. I'd like to have as few loose ends as possible. And it was certainly someone close who started this. And who is closer than your own Coterie? The Department of Mysteries is preparing to investigate the College. I won't be involved, of course, I'm too close to this. But we're usually the ones to do internal investigations. I rather despise them, myself."

"What am I to do in the meantime?" Harry asked. "It's too late to protect myself against Dream Magic. It's gone beyond that, anyway. They only had to create a trigger." He clenched his fists. "I've only been away from her a few hours, and I need to see her. It's pathetic, Hermione. Like an addiction. A disease."

"I'm not sure how we fix this, Harry. I doubt it's something we can fix with one charm - a potion, maybe, since that's how this was begun. I could-"

She broke off as a swift Ministry owl swooped in, left a message in Harry's hand, and flew off.

"It's from Enid," he said. "The College has tracked Borgin's Apparition last night. He's on his way to Hogsmeade."

"Go," said Hermione. "I'll follow in a couple of hours."

"You? Why?"

"I have an idea. Several, in fact. Go."

Harry was already Disapparating.

*** 

The College kept safe houses and Apparition points around Great Britain; the one in Hogsmeade was a cosy flat set over a greasy café. Harry had first Apparated to his flat, grabbing his backpack and broomstick. The others had already arrived when he reached the safe house. 

"So good of you to take time out from your busy social calendar," Enid began.

"Stow it, Enid. Is Lilith at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. Why didn't you contact me when you found her this morning?"

"I didn't think." Harry strode over to the window and looked out over the town. Hogwarts Castle stood on the horizon, obscured by the glare of the sun on the lake. "Have you contacted Snape?" he asked.

"Yes. He is reluctantly allowing us to enter Hogwarts. What ever stunts you've been pulling, Harry, you've done a lot of damage to our standing with the school." More gently she added, "are you all right? You look-"

"I'll be fine." Harry attempted, and failed, to smile. "Let's go."

They strode through the café and out into the streets of Hogsmeade, Enid leading and the rest following in pairs. Heads turned as they marched, and Harry caught the familiar whispers: _"Isn't that - did you recognise - can you see his scar?"_

"This is about as subtle as a troll doing stand-up comedy," muttered Ron.

"Have to send a message, I guess."

"What, 'We can't catch Dark wizards, but we look good in parades?'"

"Hey, it's a message."

"Keep it down," called Enid.

They fell out of formation when they reached the lake. Two boats, larger than those used for students, were waiting for them. Harry, Ron, Dennis and Marion took one; Enid, Lisa and Michael took the other.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Marion asked as they crossed the lake.

"Fine. Worried. Tired."

"You look it," Ron grunted. 

Marion gave Harry a sceptical look that reminded him of Hermione.

"Oh, all right," he relented, dropping his voice so it wouldn't carry to the other boat. "I've been having some problems. Dreams. I spoke to Hermione this morning. She thinks it might be Oneiromancy. I'm almost ready to hope that's all it is."

Dennis frowned. "But you've had prophetic dreams before, haven't you, Harry?"

"Yes, but only when Voldemort is involved. So let's hope they're not going to come true, eh?"

The others nodded. 

"Dream magic is stimulated with a potion," Marion said. "Who would have that ability? Snape?"

"This started before he got back. Hermione�" Harry hesitated, but he saw the light dawn in Ron's eyes.

"She thinks it's one of us."

"Yeah."

"Can't be me," said Dennis. "I nearly failed Potions. In fact, I think Marion's the only one in the Coterie who's any good with a cauldron."

"No," Marion said quickly, "Enid's very good. She had extra tutoring from Snape in her seventh year, she told me once." She smirked.

Harry wasn't in the mood to be amused; he looked at the other boat, over across the shining water. Lisa gave him a tentative smile, but Enid was looking at the castle, her face impassive.

"She has no motive," Harry said finally.

Ron opened his mouth, then shut it again. 

"She's complicated," he allowed. "But � I trust her."

"You might be making a mistake," said Marion quietly.

Harry watched Enid until the boats reached the shore, but she didn't look at him once.

The Hogwarts gates stood locked and barred. Enid knocked three times, and the gates slowly swung open. The Coterie marched through in silence, and Harry felt the wards tightening around them.

The doors to the castle opened as they approached. Snape met them in the Entrance Hall, his expression unreadable. There was no sign of Lilith. He did not look at Harry, concentrating entirely on Enid as he said, "You said Borgin was in the Forbidden Forest."

"So it appears. Our first job is to secure the castle. After that, I'm assigning four Aurors to sweep the Forest, two to maintain a flyover around Hogsmeade, and one to remain with Lilith."

"Your numbers are stretched thin. 

"Professional hazard." Enid turned to her Coterie. "Split up, check entranceways around the castle. You should all be familiar with the wards. We'll reassemble in the Great Hall in an hour, and move on to the grounds." 

The Aurors scattered.

Harry was examining the spells around a particularly large portrait of Alfred the Absent-minded, when a door slammed behind him and Arabella Figg said, "Pissed him off good and proper, you have."

Harry straightened. "Much as I'd love to chat, Mrs Figg, I do have work to do."

"The charm you need is a base three Arithmantic sequence. You won't know it." She drew her wand and limped forwards, muttering in Arabic. The spells around the painting became stronger, and she stepped back, looking exhausted but pleased with herself. "Severus went over the castle with a fine-toothed comb, but it's too big for one man."

"He'd have been better off staying in Oxford, then."

"No. Best to draw Borgin out now. Best to draw everything out. Secrets fester. Like a snake-bite." She paused. "Lilith told me what happened last night."

"Great."

"Thank you for saving her."

Harry snuck a side-long glance, but Figg looked sincere.

"You're welcome, I guess."

"You've saved her life, what, thrice now? That's an important number, Arithmantically speaking. Not that I'm a great Arithmancer, but it's obviously a big gap in your education. Magic and numbers, Potter. Why do you think there are seven Aurors in a Coterie? It's important."

"And I've saved Lilith three times."

"Yes. It's no wonder that a bond is developing. She's young, of course, and it's an awkward way to open a courtship - not that I'd have you doing any such thing, and neither would Severus - but it's no wonder. This sort of thing has happened in the past. The magic of the life-debt is older than civilisation. It doesn't play by the rules. And that's not the only magic at work here - not the Darkest, either." She pursed her lips. "Honestly, Potter, I know you're not the fastest shrivelfig in the cluster, but you should know this already."

"Does it matter? I'm not going to touch Lilith. I'm not-"

"Well, of course not. I'll feed you to the Whomping Willow before I let you near that girl again. Should have made that clear at the beginning." She frowned at him. "Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? I can't do _all_ your work for you."

She turned and hobbled away, pausing in the doorway.

" _Teluete_ ," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

"The password to his office. It's ' _teluete_ '."

She closed the door, leaving Harry churning with unasked questions. Part of him wanted to go straight to Snape's office and confront him with his growing suspicions, but he forced himself to concentrate on the wards. His theorising would be useless if Borgin could enter the castle.

Returning to the Great Hall later, he felt a pair of eyes watching him. He turned, and found Lilith watching him from a doorway.

"They told me you were called the Thestral at school," he said. "Now I know why."

"Aunt Arabella said it's the life-debt coming between us. Confusing things." She tilted her head. "I thought you were my friend."

"She said that to me as well."

She hopped off the statue and moved towards him. "Do you believe her?"

"I don't think she knows everything that's been happening. You?" 

"I'm not discounting it. But I don't need your charity. You don't have to feign interest-"

"That's your father speaking. He's afraid to place himself in anyone's debt."

"I suppose you two are very much alike."

"I'm bankrupt already, Lilith."

It came out harsher than he'd intended, and she recoiled. He wanted to comfort her. He kept his hands by his sides and turned away. They made their way to the Great Hall in silence.

The others were already there, leaning against or sitting on the house tables. Enid was having an intense conversation with Snape. They both stopped as Harry approached. He gave Enid a cool look and said, "All done."

Snape ignored him, holding a hand out to Lilith. She moved to his side, watching Harry.

"Good work," said Enid. "Now, we'll move outside-"

She broke off as the double doors were thrown open with a loud crash. Harry recognised the first newcomer with pleasure, at the same moment as Ron almost laughed. 

"Hermione," he said.

She gave him a kiss and a long hug before turning to Harry and saying, "I think I've solved a problem of ours. Lilith, this is Neville Longbottom."

"No." Snape's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut across all other noise. "I will not allow _him_ -" he jerked his head at Neville, who stiffened, "to play with my daughter's mind, on Potter's hunch-"

"My hunch, actually," said Hermione.

"I don't give a damn who claims credit," he snapped. "This is a very uncertain area of magic, and even if this _guess_ is right�" Snape trailed off, his left hand twitching. "You can all go home when this is over. I'll have to live with the results. Whatever they may reveal."

Harry was conscious of Lilith, turning to her father, but all his attention was on Snape. An idea was presenting itself.

"If you think I'd just start a treatment and abandon the patient," Neville was saying angrily, "then you're a greater bastard than I ever believed."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "And what _do_ you believe, Longbottom? Because I could tell you-"

Yes, Harry thought, watching Snape through half-lidded eyes, he could probably tell them a great deal. He'd been opposed to this Memory Charm business since the beginning�

"Stop." Lilith's voice was low and determined. She stepped forward. "I'll do it."

"Lilith," Snape said, "you don't know what you're doing."

"How does that change anything I've done lately? I'm tired." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't want to do this, but I can't stand going on, not knowing. It's driving me mad." Her hands were shaking, but her gaze was steady as she looked straight past Harry at Neville.

If Neville was discomforted by the intensity of her gaze, he showed no sign of it.

"All right," he said. "This can be a time-consuming process. We'll need to begin right away."

"Very well." Harry could se Lilith drawing dignity about herself like a cloak. He was reminded of Eugenia Borgin, and he wondered if Neville and Ron were also struck by the resemblance. "Let's take a walk."

Snape made a disgusted noise, turned on his heel and stalked out. Harry watched him leave, wondering how to deal with him. He was half-tempted to ask Arabella Figg to confirm his suspicions first. If there was one person who surely knew Snape's secrets�

"I don't want you leaving the castle," Enid said to Neville.

"I doubt Borgin is hiding in the greenhouses," said Neville, "but you're welcome to accompany us. Or better yet, send Hermione."

Enid nodded. "Be careful, then. Everyone else - Dennis and Marion, out to the lake. Harry-"

"No." As Enid's lips tightened he added, "I need a word with Snape."

"Make it quick," she snapped. "I want you to inspect the wards around the Forbidden Forest."

He felt oddly calm as he made his way to Snape's office, but his voice shook as he gave the password to the gargoyle at the foot of the staircase.

The entrance to the Headmaster's office bore a silver Basilisk. Its emerald eyes seemed to follow Harry as the door swung open.

Snape didn't look up from his desk.

"The farce downstairs not entertaining enough for you, Potter?"

"I know what you did," said Harry.

Snape put his quill down. "Do you."

"Most of it. Enough." His calm evaporated under the force of Snape's cold black eyes, and he suddenly almost too angry to speak. "Your own _daughter_. How could you?"

"She hardly seemed like a daughter then. Just an idea. A mad scheme of Eugenia's." Snape's voice was soft. "I had no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Do you still believe that?" Snape's voice sharpened. "Your adolescent morality is remarkably persistent." He hesitated. "There were no good choices, then. She is � alive. It's more than I had ever planned to offer."

"That's not enough."

"Perhaps not. Are you going to tell Lilith?"

"No." Snape looked surprised at this. "She'll find out on her own, soon enough. Might be dangerous to sway her at this point."

"If you had any care for her safety, Potter-"

"I think you've lost the right to lecture me. Severus."

***

Neville Longbottom had a pleasant, open face and a detached manner that reminded Lilith of a Muggle doctor she'd once met. His face held a hint of a double chin, and his broad body was beginning to spread with middle age. He was an eminently non-threatening figure.

Despite that, she found herself looking for escape routes as they strolled to the greenhouses. The tension in her neck and spine increased as the glass door closed behind them, and only the steady pounding of her head prevented her from running.

That, and her acute awareness of the Forest's proximity.

Anyway, Granger was watching her, and Lilith had no doubt the older woman would have her Stunned before she reached the door. Granger could, she suspected, be quite ruthless in overseeing the outcome of her theories.

Longbottom sat down on a crate beside a bed of singing tulips, and motioned for Lilith to join him. Any other wizard, she thought, could have conjured a chair, as Granger was doing, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Longbottom wasn't a normal wizard. The Potter biographies generally accorded him a footnote, a page at the most, but the conversation she'd overheard, and the assessing gaze of the man himself implied something more.

"It's nice to be back here," he said, examining tulip. The flower hummed under his fingertips. "Herbology was my most, uh, consistently good subject at school."

"Until you met my mother."

"Until my Memory Charms were broken, yes." Longbottom plucked a dead leaf from the tulip. "What's your worst subject at school?"

"Most people ask for my best."

"Saving you the embarrassment of admitting that the daughter of a great Potions Master can't brew a simple tincture?"

Lilith scowled.

"Why are you here," she demanded, dropping her voice so Granger wouldn't overhear. "I heard what you said to Harry when he asked for your help. Why have you changed your mind?"

He glanced away. "I had a change of heart."

"Really."

"And a long talk with my father, yes. The rest is none of your business." His irritation was easier to comprehend than detached curiosity.

"But you didn't offer to help until Hermione asked, did you," she prodded, pleased to have punctured his armour and found a weakness.

"No. And now we have very little time, and I'd be grateful if you stopped wasting it."

Lilith favoured him with a smile and said, "What was it you wanted to know?"

**Chapter Twenty-One**

  

"How much have you guessed?"

Harry shrugged. "That the Memory Charms are your work. Or they were originally, anyway. And since I know you don't cast that kind of spell for fun, I'm thinking you had a lot to conceal." Snape's face was guarded, revealing nothing. Harry pressed on. "I think it was Eugenia," he said flatly. "She tried to transfer her soul to Lilith, didn't she? I could never understand why she'd want a child when the war was going so badly. Lilith was her insurance. A way of being reborn."

Snape said, softly, "It was not just Eugenia."

A chill ran down Harry's spine.

"Come," said Snape. "I don't want to discuss this inside my school. You can complete your sweep of the Forest borders at the same time."

The empty school echoed around them as they made their way outside. Nearly Headless Nick hailed Harry, but recoiled from his cold glare. 

Outside, it was almost unbearably sunny. The glare from the lake reflected off Harry's glasses, giving him a headache. They walked for a while in silence before Snape spoke, his voice flat and soft.

"Eugenia was six months pregnant before I found out what she and the Dark Lord had done. I saw her in Azkaban, shortly after the Fall. She took � great pleasure in telling me."

"What had they done? Precisely?"

"Throughout his life � and beyond � Voldemort had placed small echoes and copies of his soul in inanimate objects. As you well know."

"Diaries," said Harry bitterly, "ancient lamps."

"In the last months of his existence, he tried something more ambitious."

"A human being."

"A human foetus, yes."

Harry picked up a rock and threw it into the lake, feeling nauseated. 

"And Eugenia permitted this"

Snape laughed scornfully. "Potter, she _welcomed_ it. She helped him perfect the spells. And when Voldemort fell, she tried to complete the process herself."

"Successfully?"

"It was enough." Snape's voice was rough with pain, or, Harry reflected, more likely anger.

"And the Memory Charms?"

Snape paused to rebuild the wards around a fallen tree before speaking.

"Lilith had nightmares," he said at last. "From her infancy. She couldn't sleep without waking in screams. We - Arabella and I - thought she was simply temperamental. I � spent very little time with her when she was young. As she got older, we found she knew of events that had happened long before she was born, and the nightmares were getting steadily worse." He paused, staring into the Forest. "She'd cry out for her mother in her sleep. And for the Dark Lord. We cast � three, perhaps four Memory Charms, over a couple of years. She became very quiet � Arabella says she barely spoke for six months after the last one. We were afraid we'd gone too far, but one day, she simply began speaking again. Considering the consequences of a poorly cast Memory Charm, I'd say it was a great success."

"Oh yes," said Harry, "destroying your daughter's mind."

"Do you think Voldemort and Eugenia would have been content to allow her to grow up in peace? I doubt Lilith would be approaching adulthood with her own personality, if we'd let her be. Her magic is damaged, but her mind is intact."

"You should have found another way."

"There was no other way."

Harry cast a spell of protection around a clump of trees whose roots spread beyond the Forest and into school grounds. Eventually he said, "You're a coward."

"Don't lecture me, Potter. You of all people know what I was dealing with."

"You utter bastard," Harry breathed, "lying to your own daughter like this - and working so hard to keep the Aurors away from her."

"To keep _you_ away from her. You and she have far too much in common, and believe me, Voldemort intended it that way."

"You'll help Neville break the spells when we get back to the castle."

"No."

"Did that sound like a request, Snape? When your spells are undone, Borgin's will follow, and then we'll know what we're dealing with."

"What you'll be dealing with, Potter, is the Dark Lord reborn." Snape's hands were shaking. "And my daughter will be destroyed."

"That's not necessarily true. Ginny-"

"This is not a possession," Snape hissed, "this is Lilith's very soul at stake."

" _I_ carry Voldemort, too. Remember? I'm a Parselmouth. I'm the most powerful wizard of my generation, and believe me, Snape, I could have the Dark Order at my feet if I chose." Now Harry was shaking, and he had to force himself to maintain control. "I choose not," he managed.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Do you."

"Every day. Every hour, if I have to. It's enough." Harry pointed to the castle. "Come on. Time you gave us the help we need." 

As they approached the school, Harry suddenly asked, "Do you still own the farm by the sea?"

"No. I sold it several years ago."

"Did you ever take Lilith out there?"

"No." Snape looked up at Hogwarts. "I haven't been back since the day after you left."

"Ah."

"Do you ever regret that summer?" Some old memory (eighteen years, his mind supplied) prompted him to add, "sir?"

"Always, Potter."

They returned to the school in an uneasy, dangerous silence.

Neville, Hermione and Lilith had returned to the Great Hall when they arrived, though the other Aurors remained absent. Arabella was holding Lilith by the shoulders, while Hermione administered a potent-looking blend of analgesic and anti-nausea potions. Neville was studying a parchment covered in a swirl of multi-coloured ink.

"It worked this time?" Harry asked, "you mapped the Memory Charms?"

"Partially. Not enough." Neville looked up in surprise and annoyance as Snape snatched the page from his hands.

"Let me give you a few pointers," Snape said, with a hint of a sneer.

"What do _you_ know about breaking Memory Charms, then?" Neville asked. "Aside from the bullying method, of course."

"I can break my own charm, Longbottom." A silence fell over the group at these words, and a clay goblet slipped out of Lilith's hands. It fell to the floor, and its smash echoed through the Hall.

Neville said, "I _knew_ it. You utter bastard-"

"Name-calling is beneath even you, Longbottom, and I've no interest in hearing your opinions right now. Let me withdraw my own spells - then my daughter will be in your hands." Snape raised his wand, and rested it before Lilith's forehead. "Let us begin."

***

Snape put Lilith in her bed and lingered for a moment to watch her restless sleep. He could hear Potter's people moving about downstairs, preparing their next assault on his daughter's mind. He remembered their shocked, sanctimonious faces as they realised what he'd done, and felt a wave of indignation. Nominal adults they might be, but they were all too young to understand the choices he'd made. Their naïveté galled him; should he have taught them better? No, they'd had harsh enough teachers: Lucius Malfoy, Eugenia Lestrange, Voldemort himself. If they were too weak to understand the lesson, well, that was no longer his problem.

_His_ concern was the sleeping girl before him, and the _things_ lurking in he mind.

He could see no positive future for her. She would succumb, or she would destroy herself fighting it. She was too young, too inexperienced, to overcome the darkness. Even Potter had never quite managed it. And now he had the nerve to be surprised and angry, when he himself-

Footsteps approached behind him. Snape turned, expecting Arabella Figg, and found himself looking into Enid's cool eyes.

"I'd like a word," she said.

"I don't have time."

"Make time."

He took her by the arm and led her into an abandoned classroom two corridors away. Peeves was turning idle somersaults up by the ceiling; Snape gave him a cold look, and he quickly departed.

As soon as they were alone, Enid said, "So. Did you keep Potter away from this because you knew he'd figure it all out? Or is there something else at work here?"

"I cannot even begin to explain how many things are at work in this situation-"

"Try. Because you have treated me and my Coterie with nothing but contempt since you came home, and we have sacrificed a great deal to keep your daughter safe. We were supposed to be suspended pending investigation after Borgin's escape, and don't think it's escaped anyone's notice that his disappearance coincided with your return. I have worked long and hard to be allowed to run this case, and I did it partially to keep you and Lilith safe."

"I have my reasons."

"Yes. And if you'd seen fit to share what you knew-"

"The Ministry would never have permitted Lilith to live if they'd known who and what she was."

"The Ministry of Magic is not in the business of assassinating schoolgirls!"

"Well, no," said a voice from the doorway, "but you should see some of the things they _have_ authorised over the years." Granger didn't flinch at Snape's glare. "Don't give me that look, Professor. If you wanted privacy, you shouldn't have let Peeves find out where you were. He's selling tickets downstairs."

"Did you know about this?" Enid demanded, "what Snape has concealed all this time?"

"No. I had no idea." She scowled at Snape. "You know, you could have spoken to me. I'd be the last person to go off blabbing about that sort of thing. Or," she added as Enid opened her mouth, "putting it in a potentially damaging report."

"The situation was under control."

"Of course it was. Aside from that bit where the Dark Order had discovered your secret. Granger glanced at her watch. "The House Elves," her lips turned down slightly, "are serving an early dinner. You may as well come downstairs and eat."

She turned and walked away, leaving Snape and Enid alone.

"You should have trusted me," Enid said.

"You're an Auror. Surrounded by Ministry regulations and Gryffindor _courage_ , and Tenebreas Lux's relentless purge of anything remotely Dark. It was too dangerous."

"I'd never have figured you for a coward, Severus."

Enid walked away before he could formulate a response. Severus found that he had no appetite. He made his way to his office and brooded alone.

***

The setting sun was shining into Lilith's eyes when she woke up, and it took her several moments to recall her last conscious moments. Her father had chanted a complex incantation, and the world had spun, and everything had gone black.

Her head ached as she sat up, and something whispered on the edge of her perception. For a moment, she wondered if, perhaps, she was still asleep, and this was a dream. But then her door opened, and its creak pierced her head, and she knew she was awake.

"I'm glad to see you're awake," Granger said. "We're ready for you downstairs. It's Neville's turn. He thinks it will be easier to break Borgin's spells, now that your father's are out of the way."

Lilith tied her hair back and followed Hermione downstairs, trying not to notice Granger's sidelong glances.

"I don't remember anything," she snapped. But she did: she knew these corridors, had belonged to them once. And they to her. Blood ties.

She suddenly found that she didn't want the other Memory Charms to be lifted, but Granger marched inexorably on, and there was no escape now.

The others waited in the Great Hall: Potter, her father, Weasley, Longbottom, Zabini. They watched Lilith expectantly as she entered. She met her father's eyes, and scowled.

"Sit down," said Longbottom, handing her a goblet, filled with a sweetly scented purple liquid. "Drink this."

Lilith sniffed at it suspiciously, glancing from her father to Granger for confirmation. She could not meet her father's eyes, but Granger nodded slightly, and she sipped. The sweetness was quickly replaced by a sour aftertaste, and her head began to feel heavy.

"Now," said Neville, "I want you to concentrate on this light," he conjured a shimmering silver ball with a careful wave of his wand. "There's nothing else in this room. Only the light."

The ball seemed to expand before Lilith's eyes, becoming a sheet of light, riddled with patterns that shifted and changed.

Something was bored down her throat, and for a moment, she was afraid she would choke. The moment passed, and the colours deepened, pouring into her mind.

She shuddered, and heard a distant voice: "Is she rejecting--?"

"Quiet, Hermione, you're too impatient. Let the cascade develop naturally."

Then the world went white, and Lilith felt no more.

***

It was dark when she woke up. Dark and cold, or perhaps she was feverish. But there was no pain as she sat up: her head was clear. She clambered out of bed - someone had dressed her in a nightshift - and moved to the window, breathing deeply. She had lived with pain for so long that being without it was heady, thrilling.

_A rebirth._

_Completion. At last._

"Lilith."

She turned. Granger was uncurling herself from the chair in the corner, rubbing her eyes. "How do you feel?" she asked.

Lilith licked her lips, and said in a voice that didn't quite feel like her own, "Very well." 

"We were worried about you. Neville found Borgin's spells almost too easy to break, once the tangle of charms had been removed, but then you blacked out-"

The door opened, and Aunt Arabella entered. Lilith's hands, which had been straying to her wand, dropped by her sides.

"Hermione? What - Lilith, you're awake." She gave Lilith a searching look. "You should have called me, Hermione."

"I'm sorry - I fell asleep-"

"Go, then. Tell Enid I said for her to relieve you."

"Does Lilith really need--?" Granger broke off, glancing at Lilith. 

" _Go,_ Granger - truly, if ever a student of mine thought she knew better than everyone else - you're worse than Snape, Evans and every Potter I ever met. _Out_."

Arabella watched Hermione leave, then turned back to Lilith. "Now," she said coldly, "who are you? Really?"

The spell caught Arabella in the chest and she collapsed. Lilith stood still, staring at the wand in her hand. Her hands felt clumsy, as though she was wearing ill-fitted gloves, and even her wand felt unfamiliar. She threw a cloak around her shoulders, cast a Concealment Charm she hadn't even realised she'd learnt over herself, and walked out.

The corridors were empty, but voices came from an open room nearby. Lilith peeked in: her father and Weasley were engrossed in a chess game. The Concealment Charm wasn't foolproof, and for a terrible second she thought her father would look straight at her. But the moment passed, and he simply mated Weasley's king and said, "Dear me, Weasley. And you always had _such_ a reputation."

Her fingers clenched around her wand, and the words of the Killing Curse were on the tip of her tongue. Shaking, she forced herself to relax.

_Not yet, not yet._

_Not at all._

_Wait and see._

Lilith shuddered and moved on.

The Forest was calling her. The Forest, and her people. Not her father, weak traitor that he was, but those who would train and nurture and love and fear her as she deserved.

Her father had missed one crucial point when he hurried her off to Hogwarts. She could use magic to defend herself without Ministry interference, yes, but she could use magic for anything else as well. The locking charms around the outer doors were easily broken, and she knew in the very cells of her body that the wards remained intact.

This castle was hers. This would belong to her one day, and she would make it right. Voldemort's mistakes would be avoided, the Dark Order would rise, and they would all be so sorry they'd underestimated her�

The Forest was calling. That was hers, too, wild as it was. But she would tame it, and the very trees themselves would bow to her.

Lilith pushed her hair out of her eyes, and realised that she was crying.

***

Harry stared out over the Hogwarts grounds, at the Forest beyond. The evening breeze was rapidly cooling, and he was glad of his cloak.

"At least this will be over soon," said Enid.

"The weather, or the search for Borgin?"

"This has been a very hard time for Severus." Her voice was soft, but her eyes lacked sympathy. She drew her cloak around herself, warding away any sympathy Harry might have offered, had he been inclined. She overestimated him, but he was almost grateful for that.

_Snape's not the only one having a hard time._ His temper was fraying, and the threat within the Forest was a constant presence in his mind.

_Let's be honest, Potter. The Forest is the least of the things in your mind._

And if he was vulnerable to a Dark Summoning, how much more would Lilith be, unconscious and stripped of her defences?

_You're paranoid. She's sleeping, and she's safe. Go inside. Have a drink and play chess, that's what Snape's doing. And he's had more practice at this than anyone._

But he found himself unable to turn away.

The Forest was calling.

"I'm going in," said Enid. "Dennis and Marion will be back from their Forest sweep soon. I'll send Michael and Lisa out."

Harry leaned against the balustrade and looked out over the Forest.

"Okay," he said.

Enid gave him a worried look and turned away.

Down below, a small figure crossed the grounds, shaking and stumbling as she moved to the Forest. 

_Not sleeping after all._

He picked up his broom and followed Lilith into the Forest.

Her trail was indistinct, but he could sense her presence. He found her almost by instinct, crouched amongst the extensive roots of a tree deep in the Forest. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, and her eyes were wild.

"Do you know what they did?" she said as he approached.

"Yes."

"I know � I know everything." She laughed, a brittle, high-pitched sound. "I'm not quite myself, you know."

"I know."

"Did he tell you, then? Snape?" She tasted the words on her lips: "My father." 

"I guessed. We had a very interesting chat, your father and I. But I had to keep it to myself. Dangerous to direct your mind too much."

"Why? Everyone else had a go." She ticked them off on her fingers. "My father, my uncle, Aunt Arabella, Lucas Burke, my mother�" She faltered. "And _him_. The Dark Lord."

"Voldemort."

"You must not speak his name," she hissed.

"Why not?" Harry feigned nonchalance. "I have as much right as you-"

"I have _no_ right. He is the Dark Lord, and I am but his servant, his most faithful servant, and I am well pleased with her faithful service�" Lilith choked. "I'm losing," she said. "I can't fight both of them."

"Do you want to, then?"

" _Yes_. They'll eat me alive from the inside out. I won't let them have me." 

Harry reached out and wiped her eyes.

"That's the first step," he said. 

"What comes next? My uncle wants to control me. He thinks I can revive the Dark Order. They think � I'm like � they think I'm some sort of Dark Messiah."

"No. You're not a Messiah, any more than me." Harry cupped her face in his hands. "You're a woman. A girl. Another child-victim of this stupid war. You have a _choice._ "

"There are no choices, Potter."

"There are always choices. Just � sometimes no good ones." _Time for honesty. At last._

"The summer I turned seventeen," he said slowly, "your father appeared on my aunt's doorstep. Not alone. He � offered me a choice. I could leave Privet Drive, and learn the Dark Arts from him. Or I could watch while he and his - colleagues killed my aunt, and her husband and son, and every other Muggle in the vicinity.

"Dumbledore had died a month ago. There were no good choices."

"You went with him." 

"He took me to a farmhouse he owned on the East Anglia coast. It was a cold, rainy summer. We'd go days without seeing another human being. The Dark Arts came easier for me than Potions. We developed a rapport, of sorts."

"The Dark Lord wanted to break you," Lilith breathed. "He gave you the tools to destroy yourself."

"And he nearly succeeded. There were days when I came close to killing your father � there were days when I wanted to see him dead."

"The Dark Lord wanted to test you. He understood Darkness. It was the only thing he could hold over you. He sent his Death Eaters � he sent my mother�"

"And they arrived to find I'd already fled."

"Snape almost died for his failure," said Lilith.

"He didn't fail," said Harry, and all the bitterness of the last years welled up. "He succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams, and it almost crippled me. I've never forgiven him."

The temperature was still dropping. Mist was rising around them, and Harry could hear the smaller Forest animals scurrying about as cold rain began to hit the ground.

"He could have known what they were doing," Lilith said. "The Dark Lord and my mother. Snape allowed it to happen." Her gaze grew distant. "It was a difficult, dangerous enchantment � he'd poured himself into others before, but this was more than a simple matter of possession." She laughed. "And then my mother tried to complete the work, but she was in Azkaban, and mad, and her own soul was a pitiful alternative." Her breath grew ragged. "So this is what was hiding under all those Memory Charms. A madwoman."

"You're not mad."

"Aren't I? I've spent my life chained up under Memory Charms, Imperius, everything. Useless, now." She stared at Harry, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.

_The hell with it._

He leaned in and kissed her back. She whimpered, and it almost broke his heart.

_And here I thought I didn't care about anything anymore._

They parted, and there was no hope in her eyes. She licked her lips and said, "You destroy people like me."

"I am a person like you."

"We make a fine pair."

He laughed, and kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She was wet and shivering. He at least was warm; he wrapped his cloak around them both, kissing her face and eyes and neck. Her tears were mingled with blood and rainwater; she removed his glasses and kissed his scar, pressing herself so tightly against him that she was surely aware of his desire. Her cold hands found their way under his shirt, and he shivered.

"We'll destroy each other," he whispered brokenly, "and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be among us again."

A twig snapped behind him, a wand rested against his neck and a new voice said, "Well, yes. That was the general idea."  


**Chapter Twenty-Two**

 

Lilith looked up into Lucas Burke's eyes and froze. Then shaking hands took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from Harry.

"Forgive me, dearest. But no uncle likes to see his favourite niece behaving like a common trollop with a man like Potter."

"Uncle Janus-"

Harry hadn't moved. He stared up at her uncle, squinting slightly without his glasses. " _You_ brewed the potion, then," he said.

"Yes."

A bitter smile touched his mouth. "The evil ink?"

"It wasn't just _ink_ , you fool. It was a fine potion � even Severus would grant that. The work of a lifetime, and all for you, Potter." Borgin shook Lilith slightly. "I hope you feel special."

"Believe me, I do."

"When this is all over, I hope Severus takes a moment to look over my notes." Borgin squeezed Lilith's shoulder. "Try to ensure it, Lilith. He invented that particular kind of potion, you see. Transferred through the skin. They use it at St. Mungo's, these days. Of course, the original version, the potion your father created, was a poison. The recipe calls for the blood of the victim himself - that's how your father protected himself from accidental poisonings. Each batch was created especially for the victim."

"Harry wasn't poisoned," Lilith choked.

"Not fatally. But he _was_ infected, dearest. With you."

"My blood. You cut my arm." A slow outrage was beginning to burn: how _dare_ he? Even as he'd snivelled and apologised, his hands had been busy slicing her open, and she was too lulled by charms to stop him.

"I'm sorry, Lilith."

She turned to meet his eyes. "You will be," she breathed. There was a flicker of recognition, and fear, in his face.

Harry said, "Who were you working with?"

"Quiet," snapped Burke.

"You must have had support. I'm just wondering where the rest of the Dark Order is."

"We no longer work with the Order," Borgin said, though his voice and hands were shaky.

"That's a pity," said Harry, sounding genuinely sad, "it's always sad when your principles diverge from those of your fellows. I've been thinking of retirement myself, lately."

"Should you live that long," said Burke.

"That was part of the plan." Harry squinted at the tree behind Lilith. " _Projectilarbor_!"

Burke barely had a chance to say, " _Avada_ -" before a heavy branch wrenched itself away from its tree and knocked him flat, and by that time, Harry had rolled away, grabbing his wand and pointing it at Borgin. 

" _Stupefy!_ "

Borgin had thrown Lilith aside, and she half-crawled, half-ran behind a tree. Her uncle had blocked Harry's Stunner, and was throwing Dark curses at him. Harry fought well, but couldn't block everything; without his glasses, it was obvious he could barely see. His own curses were growing increasingly unpleasant.

_And the Darkness sucks all of us in�_

_No._

_There is no fighting this._

"No!" Lilith froze, not realising she'd spoken aloud. Then she ran towards the duel, hexing her uncle as she went. He stumbled, and Harry advanced.

"Lilith," he called between hexes, "use a gold Starbust Charm. They'll see it from the castle." 

The Charm generated an enormous ball of light, that shot up from her wand and illuminated the whole area. For a moment, glistening and golden, the Forest looked almost beautiful. 

Harry Animated three vines, which wrapped themselves around Borgin and held him down.

Burke, immobilised beneath the heavy tree branch, looked up at Lilith. 

"You won't win," he said. "You never even had a chance."

There were shouts from above, and four broomsticks flew into the clearing: Zabini, Weasley, Turpin and Truelake.

"Merlin," Zabini said.

"Just me," Harry said. "Where are Dennis and Marion?"

Ron's face was grim. "They never reported in. And then we found you and Lilith missing - we were out searching the Forest." He kicked Burke in the side. "Hello, Lucas. Been quite a while since you were seen in polite company."

Burke spat at him.

"Get them back to the castle," said Enid. "Severus will certainly have Veritaserum at his disposal. And Mr Borgin and I are _long_ overdue for a nice chat."

Harry's own broomstick lay under a bush, forgotten in the melee. He helped Lilith mount it in front of him, murmuring, "Careful. We have to be balanced properly."

Lilith met Weasley's eyes over Harry's shoulder. He was making no attempt to hide his concern. She watched him for a moment, then turned away.

They ascended carefully, and made slow progress towards the castle, the prisoners bound now by magical ropes. Her uncle stared into nothingness, his face despairing. Burke never took his eyes off Potter. It began to rain again.

The flight ended outside the front of the castle. She could see the others waiting in the entranceway: her father, supporting Aunt Arabella; Granger and Longbottom. Snape's face was unreadable. Lilith climbed off the broomstick, and watched him.

"Lilith?"

"I can't move, Harry," she whispered, "I can't." She tried to take a step back, and found her shaky legs wouldn't even allow that much: she sank to the ground.

"Lilith-" Arabella took a step forward, but Snape held her back.

"We don't know what she is."

"Coward," Harry muttered. Scooping Lilith up, he carried her forward. The Aurors and their prisoners followed. Everyone but Snape moved to let them pass; her father lingered in the doorway.

"Your daughter," Harry said. "Alive and safe."

"Is she." It was a statement, not a question.

"As much as any of us."

Harry swept past, setting Lilith down on a bench that stood beneath a statue of Helga Hufflepuff. Neville closed in, followed by Hermione. 

Unconscious, Lilith seemed almost peaceful. Harry turned away, and met Snape's cold eyes.

"We will undo what was done here," Snape said.

"You can't stop this," Borgin hissed, his eyes despairing. "She's gone. She'll never be the same."

"Quiet," Enid said. "Ron, take Michael and Lisa. Find Dennis and Marion." 

"They-" Ron scowled at the prisoners, "could tell us where they are soon enough."

"And I'll owl you when they do, but I don't want to waste a minute."

Ron nodded and left, followed by Michael and Lisa. He paused at the door, throwing a worried glance behind him, and marched on.

"Severus," Enid said, "do you have any Veritaserum at hand?"

H smirked and drew a bottle from his robes.

Enid grinned and said, "To the Great Hall, then. Might as well let everyone sit down." She glanced at Burke, and her smile turned feral. "I expect this will take quite a long time."

Snape did not answer until he'd conjured up a stretcher for Lilith. Then he said, "Indeed."

They made their way into the Great Hall in silence. Snape laid Lilith down on the staff table, and Harry tried not to think of funeral pyres. Dumbledore had been laid out like that, and the smoke had risen into the impossibly blue sky�

_She's not dead._

_Want to wake her with true love's kiss?_

They were both too old for fairytales. 

Snape watched his daughter sleep for a moment, then waved his wand. She opened her eyes, but didn't move to sit up.

"Do you know who you are?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Lilith answered. 

Snape stared down at her, searching for something beyond Harry's ability to perceive. Finally he said, "I'll be watching you."

Her smile was sad. "I always knew you didn't trust me."

Snape turned away, scowling as he met Harry's eyes.

"Let's get this over with," he said, allowing his attention to fall on the prisoners. 

"You can't do this," Borgin said. "The Ministry forbids Veritaserum interrogation without-"

"I am the Ministry," said Enid. "And I am authorised to do anything I please with you two." She fingered her wand, eyes alight with menace. Recognising the implicit threat, Borgin subsided.

"Open up," Hermione said. She placed three drops of Veritaserum on his tongue, and moved on to Burke.

"Enjoy yourself, Mudblood," Burke muttered, "you won't be so arrogant when the traitors are dead." By which Harry assumed he meant Ron and himself, and all her other wizard-born friends. He took a step towards Burke, but the prisoner submitted without further protest.

_This has been too easy_ , he thought. He suddenly wanted to see Dennis and Marion. If they were dead, he decided, nothing would stand between the prisoners and the Dementor's Kiss. Not even Sirius would talk him out of it�

The prisoners had taken on the vacant expressions of the Veritaserum-drugged. Enid asked the standard preparatory questions, names, ages, places of birth, while Hermione quickly charmed a Transcription Quill.

"So where are our missing Aurors?" Enid asked.

"I don't know."

She raised her wand, but Snape said, "Don't be absurd, Zabini. He can't lie in this state."

Enid nodded and rounded on Burke. 

"I know nothing," he said, "except that you _do_ have a traitor in your Coterie. He - or she \- cleared the way for me to get Janus out of the Tower, and kept us informed about your activities in the last few days."

"Dennis?" Harry asked unhappily. "Was it Dennis Creevey?" He couldn't imagine Dennis turning to the Dark Arts. He didn't want to.

"The Mudblood?" Borgin nearly giggled. "Hardly."

"We never saw your traitor," said Burke. "Only his works. Perhaps Weasley finally got tired of life in Potter's shadow."

"You must be mad," Harry began, at the same time as Hermione said, "Ron would sooner kill himself than-"

"Quiet," Enid snapped. "This won't work if everyone speaks at once."

Harry said, "When did you learn about Voldemort's � influence over Lilith?"

"Don't say the name!" someone muttered. Harry ignored them.

"Eight months ago." Borgin's voice was soft and monotonous. "But I had � suspicions before that."

"You taught Lilith the Dark Arts?"

"I tried. But she couldn't learn � she was scared, I knew, but this overreaction � it was unnatural. Not even Lucas could teach her, and he is a greater wizard than I."

"When did you discover the Memory Charms?" Enid asked.

"After two months. It was our last meeting before she went back to school. She had passed out. I was afraid for her. That she had a tumour, or some sort of disease. I called Doctor Van Meekledem."

"The Butcher of Knockturn?" Neville's voice was horrified. "For that _child_?"

"Oh, he's had younger patients than that," Burke interrupted with a leer.

"I watched him," Borgin said, eyeing Snape, who was beginning to prowl around him, wand in hand. "I didn't leave them alone�"

Harry looked back at Lilith, hunched in a chair beside Arabella, studying her hands.

"Enough," he said. "Doctor Van Meekledem's crimes are a matter for another investigation all together. Did he discover the Memory Charms, Borgin?"

"Oh, yes. Couldn't properly disentangle them, but he knew what to do. He wielded Cruciatus like a scalpel. Cut through the charms � she hardly screamed at all."

"I bit my tongue," Lilith whispered, "he tied me down and gagged me. I couldn't breathe � I nearly choked on my own blood." Arabella took her hand, but Lilith, lost in her new memories, didn't respond.

"I'm sorry," said Borgin.

"Yes, you're always apologising," said Harry. "Doesn't do a lot of good, does it? What happened next?"

"She learnt a great deal that night � she was too scared _not_ to, but I knew she'd come back. She wanted it, you see, she had a gift for it. I thought of taking her, stealing her away to Europe or South America, but I was afraid�. So I simply reformed the Memory Charms, and added a new one."

"She returned to me the next summer. It was easier to break the charms the second, and third, and fourth times. And she took to my teaching � she was a prodigy. It was almost unnatural."

"Which, of course, it was," Enid commented. "How did Radnov's secret reach your ears?"

"I was � Summoned by the Order last year. A Council of Eight stood before me, and told me what my niece was. And what my task would be."

"Explain."

"I - we-" His gaze flicked over to Burke, "were ordered to use Lilith�" He faltered.

"Go on," growled Snape. "Don't stop now, we're all quite entertained."

"She was to be bait. For Harry Potter."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He did not - could not - look back at Lilith, but he could feel her eyes on him. 

"Bait," said Enid.

"The Order believes that Potter, too, carries some trace of the Dark Lord within him. And he had been trained in the Dark Arts. With the right - stimulus - they thought he could be brought over to their side."

Sick to his stomach, and unable to look at anyone, Harry sank into a chair.

"You said 'they', Borgin," said Enid, "not 'we'."

"My niece. My fifteen-year-old niece. Chattel for Potter, wasted, and she could have been _magnificent_ -"

Snape had been examining the heavy Hogwarts banner that hung behind the staff table. Now he turned on his heel, sneering. "You hypocrite. You pathetic worm, mewling about your precious love for Lilith - and you'd have destroyed her as quickly as the Order. You never gave allegiance to the Dark Lord when he lived, but you'd have been happy to control his heir-"

"As if you haven't spent the last fifteen years grinding her down to powder� I didn't want to hurt her. I wanted her to be strong. Like Eugenia. To make her a pawn in some elaborate scheme to ensnare Potter - a virgin sacrifice - a brood mare. And we went to so much trouble � I had to dose her with love potions and put her under Imperius to make her open up in his presence. And _him_ \- we wove such a cocktail of spells and potions�"

"The Oneiromancer," Hermione said. "Who was it?"

"One of the Council of Eight. I didn't see the face. I didn't see any faces. They arranged everything - the attack on Diagon Alley, the letter which ensured that Potter would continue to protect Lilith. All we had to do was set things in motion." Borgin shuddered. "I knew I would be freed before the Inveritas wore off, but � I was weary. When Lucas came for me, I didn't want to leave."

"Yes," said Enid, "I suppose it was quite comfortable. Not even the Auror's Circle is worse than anything the Dark Order could come up with." She paced restlessly, coming to a halt in front of Burke. "And _you_. You've been very quiet."

"What can I say? Janus has told you everything."

"Has he? Why did you disappear two years ago?"

"Some business trouble. Difficult negotiations. I feared for my safety. I managed to keep out of sight for several months before the authorities noticed I was gone - very careless of you."

"What sort of negotiations?"

"I was paid to import six Lethifolds into the country."

"Lose one, did you?" Harry said.

"Nothing so obvious. I imported seven � but the extra costs drew the attention of my client. Needless to say, he objected."

"Why were you trying to kill Lilith?" Harry asked, "or didn't you like the Order's plan either."

"The Dark Lord brought ruin on the Order. And those fools are so desperate for a leader that they'd try to bring him back - as a snivelling fifteen-year-old girl. And _you_."

"So you tried to kill her."

"She'd seen too much of our business practices. Ask her, she probably remembers everything by now. And if we could break and repair her Memory Charms, then why couldn't Snape? I searched his office after you took Janus, to see if he knew anything, but there was no sign."

"No," said Snape, "I had no intention of ever releasing those spells. And had you not interfered and added your own, the problem would never have become so debilitating." He scowled. "What happened last night in London?"

Borgin sighed. "Lucas told me we would retrieve Lilith. Strengthen the Imperius, to speed events along. It was too late to stop, but I wanted it to be over. We prepared a Dark Summons, to draw her to London - we didn't realise that Potter and Snape would be affected also. We were more careful tonight. But last night � she went to London, but didn't come straight to us. Lucas told me he would find her, bring her back�"

"And instead, he set off to kill her," Harry finished. "Lovely."

"She was a liability. And so were you, Janus, so afraid to defy the Order-"

"And look where it's gotten us, Lucas - and I trusted you. I've trusted you for so many years-"

"You always were soft-"

"Enough," said Enid. "Burke. For whom were you importing the Lethifolds?"

Burke laughed. "He wore Draco Malfoy's face. But he carried a flask of Polyjuice and drank from it every hour."

Enid swore. Harry watched her, wishing he could summon that much energy. He felt dead inside, beyond any emotion but disgust.

Snape paced the width of the Hall, coming to a stop in front of Lilith. She regarded him coolly.

"Go to bed, Lilith."

"I've slept enough."

"This is no place for you-"

"Then who is it for, Father?" She looked away. "I don't want to talk to you. I've had enough."

Pain flickered across Snape's face, quickly masked by irritation. He turned away, moving to speak to Enid as if the exchange had never taken place.

From beyond the Great Hall came the crash of the main doors, and rapid footsteps through the Entrance Hall. No - Harry drew his wand, and saw the others do the same. The footsteps weren't just coming through the Hall - they were surrounded-

The doors opened.

Enid froze, dismay and horror written across her features. " _You_ ," she said.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

 

He should have trusted his instincts, Ron decided as he flew over the shadows and crevices of the Forbidden Forest. He'd known that Lilith was dangerous from the first moment he saw her, and Snape \- well, he'd known since he was eleven that Snape couldn't be trusted. At the end of the day, the Headmaster was loyal only to himself.

And now he'd left his pregnant wife in their dubious company. The knowledge that she was a match for any attacker, and that she wouldn't appreciate any attempt at protection, didn't seem to make much difference to the tightness in his stomach.

Down below, Michael swooped to investigate something on the ground. The light of his wand flickered as he moved in and out of the trees, before he rejoined the formation.

Of course, Ron thought, there was no guarantee that Harry was any more stable than Snape and Lilith. He'd seen Harry in the aftermath of his abortive Dark apprenticeship, and again, following the defeat of Voldemort. There had been a look in his eyes earlier in the Forest, that forcibly reminded Ron of those uncertain days.

_Be careful, Hermione._

He was distracted by Lisa yelling, "I've found them!"

She dropped to the ground, followed closely by Ron and Michael. Dennis lay in a thicket, deep in the Forest. His wand lay in pieces by his side, covered in bloody fingerprints. 

Lisa performed a medical charm. "He has spinal injuries," she said, her voice shaking, "it's not broken, but it feels � ugly. And this," she pointed at his hands, wrapped in lacerations that spiralled up his arms and over his body, "is a curse injury."

Michael returned from a search of the surrounding area. "No sign of Marion," he said, "but take a look at this." Only fifty feet away, but well concealed by the thick growth, a small settlement lay in a large clearing. The buildings looked precarious, but Ron had no doubt they were as comfortable as a mansion inside.

"Look," he said, pointing at the trees surrounding the clearing. An animal skeleton was embedded in an ancient oak, partially obscured by the tree's growth. It had obviously been there for some years.

Much fresher was the tiny skeleton of a human foetus, pressed into the wood of an elm tree.

"Borgin and Burke must have sheltered here," said Michael.

"This holds more than two people," Ron pointed out. "You could sleep at least four in those structures, and I'll bet galleons to scones they're larger on the inside than out. These are the people Borgin and Burke were hiding from."

They turned back. Lisa was still healing Dennis; they explained what they'd seen.

"The question is, where are they now?" Michael finished. 

"Perhaps they've taken Marion as a hostage," Lisa suggested.

"Why would they leave Dennis alive, then?" Ron asked. "How could they be sure we wouldn't find him?"

Something skittered behind the trees, and off in the distance, an animal howled.

"We need to get out of here," Ron said. 

Lisa waved her wand, and a stretcher materialised right under Dennis's body. He blinked, and she quickly said, "Don't try to move."

"Not a chance," he mumbled. Ron had to kneel down to hear him properly. "Marion," Dennis said. "They attacked us � I don't know what happened. She cursed me from behind." His pupils were dilated, and Ron wondered if he could see. "I didn't see where she went � but they were following her orders�" Dennis's face briefly contorted, whether from pain or anger, Ron didn't know. He sighed, and slipped back into unconsciousness.

The wind whispered through the trees, and Ron found himself thinking of Invisibility Cloaks, and Concealment Charms, and all the things that lurked in the Forest.

"Let's get back to Hogwarts," he said. "No point in sticking about waiting to be attacked out here, when he have a nice warm castle�" He trailed off, and a chill ran down his spine.

_Why stay out here at all? Easier to go back to the school and pick them all off�_

_And Marion can get through the wards._

Ron swallowed. "Hurry," he said.

_Hermione�_

***

"I am sorry, Enid," Marion said. "I know you didn't want to believe you had a traitor." She paused, and without turning around, said, "I really wouldn't try to curse me, Professor Snape. You'd only get yourself killed. And you won't leave your daughter unprotected. Again."

Slytherin tactical philosophy generally regarded discretion as the better part of valour. Snape lowered his wand, and one of Robinson's accomplices plucked it out of his hand. He allowed himself to be pushed forward to join the other hostages.

If Hufflepuff House had any strategic traditions, he'd never heard of them. But he remembered Robinson from her schooldays, when she'd had a knack for making friends and winning trust.

_And you thought her woefully transparent. Pah._

He tried to meet Enid's eye, but she was staring at Arabella's unconscious form, biting her lip. The old woman had been the first to move, when Robinson's accomplices had swooped into the hall, and she had paid the price. 

_Too slow, you fools_ , he'd been shouting, even as Potter's wand had been taken, even as Borgin and Burke had been murdered. He'd managed to evade immediate capture, but not long enough. Now he turned his rage against himself: he, of all the people here, knew better than to trust an Auror.

Enid looked up. "When did you learn the Dark Arts, Marion?" she asked.

"When I was twenty. I'd nearly completed my Auror training. But I didn't know _enough_ \- I needed more."

"Stupid," Enid muttered. Snape didn't think she was referring to Marion. With the much-vaunted _empathy_ and _instincts_ of the Aurors, this should have come to light sooner.

"The potion," Potter said, "that began the Oneiromancy. That was you?"

"The magic seemed ineffective. Or maybe you were just hiding it. I wanted to wait, but I was ordered to give you an extra dose."

"Your mother's 'insomnia cure'?" Potter sounded resigned, as if his friends tried to poison him on a regular basis. Perhaps he was at last becoming accustomed to betrayal.

"Sorry, Harry." Indeed, she did seem apologetic. "I wasn't exactly given a choice." 

Potter opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Beside him, Granger cast a despairing look at her wand, trapped under Borgin's body, some feet away. Everyone else had been disarmed, but even their captors seemed hesitant to touch the corpses. Borgin had died screaming; his face still bore a rictus of pain. Snape couldn't bring himself to feel any sympathy.

"Who are we waiting for?" Snape asked in a conversational tone of voice. 

"No one," said one of the guards.

"Really? Then you should just kill us, and save yourselves some time. Unless you want Weasley to witness Granger and Potter's death. That might be interesting." He gave Robinson a cruel, thin smile. "I know how this works, Robinson. We're waiting for someone important."

He could still remember the anticipation of hours spent waiting for the Dark Lord to join them, excitement mingled with fear, and the look in the prisoner's faces as they realised who was coming, and why. As they realised there was no hope.

But the Dark Order had nothing to equal Voldemort any more. And the anticipation tonight was his own: the Order would not have Lilith. When he was done, it would have no one.

A door opened at the back of the hall, and he caught a glimpse of red hair in the dim light. Weasley. At last. He glided back into the deep shadows, unnoticed by anyone but Snape.

One free Auror, hiding in the dark, and six hostages. It was an interesting problem, Snape decided. He had no aptitude for any wandless magic but that created in a cauldron, but he concentrated on the charm to dim light. The torches and candles around them flickered. One guttered and died.

"What was that?" Robinson asked. She gave the hostages a penetrating look and said, "illuminate the hall. Quickly."

Granger met Snape's eyes, looking thoughtful. Four more torches went out, and every attempt to replace them failed. In the dim remaining light, he saw a shadow move slowly over the floor: Granger's wand, being levitated into her hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Enid watching it, and nodding in understanding. 

_Granger and Weasley. And the next thing they'll do is arm Potter._

There was movement behind him and off to the sides. Turpin and Truelake, he guessed, using the secret passage from the Ravenclaw common room to the antechamber off the Great Hall. He had to give Weasley credit: he hadn't tried to sneak three people through the main doors.

Potter jumped suddenly, and Snape saw him conceal his wand in his sleeves. Then his own wand flew into his hand. 

_Any second now�_

Robinson was still wrestling with the torches; finally, she drew her wand and cried, "Lumos!"

Every candle and torch in the Great Hall sprang to life, and Snape was already moving. Two guards were unconscious before he was on his feet, but his first concern was pulling Lilith out of the fray. Her own spellwork was good, better than any he'd seen from her in the past, but he took hold of her shoulders and forcibly pulled her onto the sidelines.

"You can't keep me out of this," she said.

"This is no place for you."

"Then what am I to do, Father, run away? I'm not a coward, whatever else you've made of me."

"No. I suppose you aren't." He drew her into the antechamber behind the main dais, and charmed the doors against attack. He would no doubt face the criticism of those who felt he should have stayed for the battle, but he'd had more than enough of Gryffindor self-righteousness for one night.

In any case, he had just locked himself in a small chamber, with only the living re-embodiment of Voldemort for company. He watched Lilith out of the corner of his eye; she, in turn, followed him with her eyes.

"Traitor," she said, tasting the words.

"Yes. He called me that."

"You were one of the best - you were one of his protégés." Her brows drew together. "Your love was insufficient."

Snape's mouth was dry, and his voice sounded oddly distant as he said, "Surely you mean loyalty."

"Don't question my words," she hissed.

"Ah. So this is how it will be."

Lilith moved to the sofa, leaning heavily against it as she half-collapsed onto the cushions. She pulled herself to her knees and leaned against the back of the sofa, still studying Snape. He lingered by the door, listening to the shouts and movements outside.

"Say something," Lilith said.

He raised his eyebrows. "What would you like to hear?"

"I - I-" She faltered. "I don't know," she whispered. "They wanted me to kill you."

"I know."

"I could still do it."

Snape felt his lips stretch in a parody of a smile. "Yes. You could." Her wand was in her hand, but her mind seemed elsewhere. "Will you?"

"I don't know." Her voice was soft. "You were a better father than my grandfather, that's true. My mother's father was � you were better."

"I always wanted what was best for you."

"Yes, and you nearly destroyed me in the process of achieving it."

"I was not to know the Dark Order would learn your secrets," he snapped.

"It was never _my_ secret, Father. You kept the secrets, you and Aunt Arabella. All I got was disease." She drew a shuddering breath. "You always were a prig. Even as a boy, you were prone to the strangest delusions." The sound of Eugenia's precise diction coming from his daughter's mouth sickened him.

"I had to make a decision. Anyone else would have been happy to let you die."

"Would they? Not Ron and Hermione, or Ron's parents. Not Harry, either."

"I don't want to hear his name," Snape said.

"I have more in common with Harry Potter than with any other person alive."

"Yes," said Snape, "common weakness, and the Dark Order knows it. Do not allow your emotions to override your sense, Lilith." Almost involuntarily he added, "don't repeat the Dark Lord's errors."

"Yes," said Lilith softly, "he � he was mad. And my mother - she was beyond insanity by the time she died. The Dementors hardly affected her at all; there was simply nothing left to take. I wonder-" she faltered, then rallied, "I wonder what I would be, had they not - changed me."

"I have often wondered," Snape admitted.

She blinked, and he saw no facades in her face, only fear. "How do I stop this?" 

"Control. Perseverance. Time." He licked his lips. "And courage."

"I don't want them to win."

"Good."

"Help me."

He'd moved forward without thinking; he grabbed her hands, holding them between his own. She bowed her head, and he took her by the shoulders, pulling her into an awkward embrace. 

"This was not what I wanted for you," he said. Lilith merely shuddered.

"I'm afraid," she said.

"So am I," he breathed, and held his daughter closer.

The moment was broken by movement from a corner: a panel slid open, and two men emerged. Snape let go of Lilith and gripped his wand.

"I told you they'd be in here." The speaker was a former Ravenclaw, Snape recalled. Whittaker. He should have foreseen this. "Don't move, Professor."

Snape held his arms out, his wand flat in his outstretched palm.

"Careful," warned Whittaker's compatriot, a former Slytherin only a few years older than Lilith. Snape knew the face; could remember the names of aunts, uncles and cousins, but this man's precise name escaped him. "Watch the girl."

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Danny." Whittaker reached out to pluck Snape's wand from his hand.

With his other hand, Snape grabbed Whittaker by his hair, snatching his wand away and throwing the man across the room. It was pure instinct, and for a moment, he was a child again, the son of a Squib, spending his days among Muggle children, fighting with nothing more than teeth and nails and fearful aggression. 

Whittaker was caught off guard by the Headmaster's violence; in the moment that he blinked, Snape said, " _Expelliarmus_."

Behind him, the other man dropped, bound by red cords. 

Lilith hadn't spoken a word. She advanced on him, her eyes cold.

"You're lucky to be alive," she said, and her voice was strangely gentle. "Remember that, when you're in Azkaban." 

Her hands were shaking, and Snape caught her before she could collapse.

"Come on," he said, and the steel in his voice focused her attention. "We need to get out of here."

The passageway led to the Ravenclaw common room, a long chamber lined with books, with a large fireplace at the end. The outer door opened at his approach, and the portrait of Gwendolen the Gracious whispered, "Oh, Professor, they're all over the castle!"

"Send word for the Bloody Baron," he ordered. "I need a clear passage down to the Entrance Hall. I'll go by the cellars. Tell Peeves as well."

She nodded, and flitted from frame to frame. Snape and Lilith set off down the hall towards the cellar. A narrow, dark set of stairs led them to the Slytherin dungeons, from there they ascended up to the Entrance Hall. The doors to the Great Hall had been sealed, and from behind came the sounds of furious battle.

"We should be in there," said Lilith.

"Let the Aurors take care of their own. Your place is out here." Snape looked around the darkened, empty Entrance Hall. "Robinson's superiors will be here soon."

***

" _Somniculus_!" Hermione cried, and watched with satisfaction as her opponent staggered. " _Alapus_!" She ducked behind the overturned staff table, where Arabella's prone form remained. " _Ennervate_ ," she whispered.

Arabella opened her eyes, blinked once, and said, "Marion. Oh dear." 

"Here," Hermione helped her sit up. She felt sick to her stomach, not from any injury, but the simple fear of what could have happened if a curse had reached her. 

"Where is Lilith?"

"I don't know. Snape has her."

The apprehension in Arabella's eyes deepened. "My wand?"

"Here." Hermione had plucked it from the robes of an unconscious guard. "There are seven of them out there now, but the Grey Lady said reinforcements are coming. The school's defences are cutting in, but we have to be ready."

Arabella got to her feet, peered over the table and said, "I am ready." She took Hermione's hand. "You should get out of here."

"Mrs Figg, I can-"

"Don't argue, child. The leader will be here soon enough - I remember this pattern. I expect you'll find Severus in the Entrance Hall. You should-" She broke off as someone screamed, and Ron's voice was raised in a counter-curse. 

There was a moment of dead silence, then Marion said, " _Crucio_!" and the air was filled with Ron's screams.

"Go," said Arabella. "Get him out of here. I'll distract her."

Hermione nodded, wishing she could block out the sound of her husband's screams. Just yesterday, she'd been playing Mozart and reading a book her mother had given her, on sound and foetal development. 

This was unacceptable. Cold anger welled up within her, overcoming panic and pain. She jumped the table and ran, faster than she'd have believed possible. Adrenaline, suggested a distant, analytical part of her brain. It was adrenaline that let her cast a spell of dubious provenance over one attacker, flinging him into Lisa's outstretched hands. Adrenaline that let her cut off Marion's curse, grab Ron's fallen wand and pull him to his feet. He let her lead him to a side entrance, where he collapsed, shaking, as she sealed the door.

Hermione held his shoulders as he retched, but the episode only lasted a few seconds. Then he clasped her hands and kissed her palms. His voice was shaky but dry as he said, "That never stops being fun, you know." He got to his feet. "We should go back."

"No. Arabella says the leader will arrive soon. He might have reinforcements."

Ron considered this and nodded. "Stand back, then."

"Ron? What are you--?"

" _Paries everto_!"

The room's outer wall exploded in a shower of dust and stone. Hermione blinked.

"Handy," she said.

"I only hope Snape doesn't send a bill."

"Charge it to the Ministry," said Hermione, suppressing a hysterical giggle.

"Let's go."

*** 

There was still time to change his mind, Snape thought, waiting in the shadows. He could hide Lilith away; send her down into the dungeons, keep her far away from the Dark Order. And afterwards, when this was over, they could emigrate. Change their names. Avoid the past forever.

One look at her cold, determined eyes told him that, even if he could make that break, she would never go with him. It was too late to protect her; he had tried, and failed. And now he would live with the consequences.

He heard a dull _boom_ , muffled by layers of stone, and he tightened his grip on his wand.

A shadow moved on the mezzanine above, and he readied himself for battle. Then he saw the glasses reflected in a shaft of moonlight, and Potter said, "Great minds, Professor."

Snape snorted.

"Shouldn't you be in there," he nodded at the Great Hall, "defending your friends?"

"They can defend themselves, I think."

There was movement on the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower: Granger and Weasley. Not like them to slip away from battle, good little Gryffindors that they were. But then, they were no longer little; he had doubts as to whether they were particularly good.

"And we wait," said Weasley, fading into the shadows. At least, Snape thought, he had developed a skill for concealment. Anyone who'd known him as a gangling teenager would be in for a nasty surprise.

They waited, the silence broken by the battle in the Great Hall, and the sound of Lilith's even breathing. A young wizard emerged from the dungeons, the slime on his robes attesting to his combat with Peeves. Lilith stunned him silently. Snape looked at Potter, who was watching Lilith with a small, secret smile.

It occurred to him for the first time that if things went badly tonight, Lilith was not the only one he would have to kill.

There were slow, measured footsteps outside, and the outer doors swung open. 

A cloaked figure, his face concealed by his deep hood, entered Hogwarts, paused and chuckled.

"Severus." He paused. "Miss Borgin � Lilith."

He knew that voice, that drawling accent, with its smug assumptions of Gryffindor superiority and political correctness. And he knew its younger echo, who'd spent years trying to please his father, before abandoning the endeavour and embracing the Darkness the father had so publicly repudiated.

"Tenebreas Lux."

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

 

Lux looked up at the mezzanine, allowing his hood to fall, and laughed.

"Harry, my boy. I should have known you'd guess."

"You encouraged me to protect Lilith. You said she was a daughter any man would be proud of." A cruel smile played around Potter's mouth. "I didn't think you liked Slytherins, Tenebreas."

The sounds of violence in the Great Hall were beginning to diminish. There was a cry of "Avada kedavra!" A sickening crunch. And silence.

Lux's eyes flicked over to the doors, but he didn't move.

"I don't," he said. "They'll use you 'til you're empty, then stab you in the back. There's no honour in Slytherin House, Harry. You know that."

"Oh, right," said Weasley, leaping down from the shadows, "and that whole part where you're evil-"

"Don't speak of right and wrong, Weasley. The Ministry is weak, the people of Britain are at risk. We _need_ the power of the Dark Order."

"You need--?" Weasley barely had a chance to raise his wand; Lux's curse dropped him without a word. Blood welled up from his chest; he groped blindly for the wound. 

"So much potential," said Lux sadly. "I never liked him, though. I always thought you could do better, Harry."

Potter's eyes were cold, and Snape fancied that they held a red gleam.

Or perhaps that was his imagination. 

Lilith stepped forward, her still-damp nightdress trailing around her. Lux didn't move; he watched her with a regard that verged on reverence.

"You are remarkable," he said.

"Don't speak," she snapped. "You wanted a _puppet_. You thought you could control _Lord Voldemort_." 

"Everything I've done-"

"I told you not to speak!"

High above them, a window shattered. Shards of coloured glass rained down. Snape touched his cheek, and his hand came away bloody.

Potter descended the stairs. There was an echo of his father in his swagger, but his face was bleak, and Snape suspected it was pure bravado.

"You've been playing a dangerous game, Tenebreas," he said with studied casualness. "Gambled a lot. Everything." He circled Lux, but his eyes were on Lilith. "And you lost. You've united the only two people in the universe who hold a small portion of Voldemort's soul in their minds. And guess what?" He stopped, and glass crunched under his foot. "We're not happy."

Lilith raised her wand. Her hands were shaking.

"You won't kill me," Lux said. "I made you, as surely as your father or your uncle. You wouldn't be here now if not for me."

"No," she said softly. "I wouldn't."

"Lilith," Snape began.

"Don't speak, Father."

"Lilith." Granger emerged from the shadows at last. "I know what it's like to be - to be desperate. This is not the solution. I'd hate to see you with - a burden like this-"

"Don't, Hermione," said Harry. "You'll only make it worse." He crouched down and examined Weasley. "Here," he said tenderly, " _medeor_." The tide of blood was reduced to a trickle, although Weasley would surely die if he wasn't taken to St Mungo's soon.

Potter stood up.

"What I really want to know," he said, "is how far back this plan went." He looked Lux in the eye, and said, "did you kill my wife, Tenebreas?"

"No. You and Ginny were like my children. I'd never have hurt you."

"You almost destroyed your son," Snape said. "Or was that all a deception?"

"We have a complicated relationship, my boy and I."

"Of course."

Lilith moved closer to Lux, heedless of the glass and her bare feet. 

"You said you created me," she said. "That works both ways. Voldemort embodied the Dark Order. To whom you sold your soul." Her voice was soft, and her hands were shaking. "That makes you mine. To destroy as I choose."

She raised her wand. 

Time stopped, and for a moment, Snape could see the future: his daughter, dead at his hands. And Potter. And what of himself, after that? A return to Azkaban, lost forever? Perhaps he'd be able to persuade Granger to kill him.

"You," said Lilith softly, "are�"

Words seemed to fail her.

She gave a little shrug. Her hands were shaking, and a faint sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

" _Stupefy_ ," she said. " _Incarcerous_."

Ropes bound Lux's unconscious body as he fell. He landed at Lilith's feet. She flinched and stepped back. Snape caught her by the shoulders, and she sagged against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, the better to shield her from � everything. She was still shaking.

He looked up, and saw Potter watching him, a kind of envy in his eyes.

Granger descended the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. She dropped to her knees at Weasley's side and murmured something inaudible.

"Neville," said Potter vaguely. He almost ran for the doors to the Great Hall. 

They wouldn't open.

"Enough of this," Potter said. The enormous locks shattered, and the doors swung open. "Neville!"

Snape led Lilith into the Hall. Only a few candles remained alight, and a small fire was burning in a corner. He put it out with a pass from his wand and said, " _Lumos_."

"Neville," said Potter. "It's Ron."

Longbottom looked pale and slightly nauseous, but he followed Potter. Snape ignored them; his attention was on Enid. She stood by the Slytherin table, staring into space. Blood was sprayed over her face and robes, and she was swaying with exhaustion. She looked up at his approach.

"Michael's dead," she said tightly. "And Marion. She � fell. From a considerable height."

She pointed, and Snape saw Robinson's crumpled form, spreadeagled over the Hufflepuff table. The wood was stained with blood, and had he not recognised the robes, Snape wouldn't have known whose body it was.

He took her arm, heedless of the sticky blood cooling on her skin. "She was working for Lux," he said.

She stared at him. "That's impossible. He's the Director of the College of Aurors - why would he�?" She bit her lip, and he could almost see her practical mind at work. "No � it all makes sense. He's been changing the College for years. There have been times when the bureaucracy became � problematic. But he always seemed to know what was best � he was a politician, a statesman, while we were just � ground troops." She rubbed her eyes. "I haven't slept for two days."

"Secure Lux," said Snape, "then call the Second Coterie to take the prisoners back to London. And sleep."

***

Harry spent four hours sitting in an uncomfortable chair at St Mungo's. He had no sense of time passing, just Hermione's hand in his, her head on his shoulder. And the sour taste of guilt.

In the early hours of the morning, Colin Creevey sat down beside him and said, "They called me an hour ago. When they were sure�" He swallowed. "When they were sure Dennis would be able to walk again."

It was the first Harry had heard of it. He raised his head and said, "I'm sorry."

"Always knew it was a risk." He shook his head. "He knew it, too. I'm � I'm going to have to call Dad soon." 

"Oh, Colin." Hermione knelt in front of him and took his hands. "I'm so sorry."

"That my brother is seriously injured and possibly crippled, or for telling me horrific pregnancy stories at Harry's birthday party?" Colin's laughter was weak, but genuine. "How's Ron?"

"We don't know." Hermione's chin trembled, and Colin gave her a quick, awkward hug.

"What does the _Prophet_ know?" Harry asked carefully.

"Nothing. Yet. As usual, you lot have no regard for deadlines."

"Yes. We're very insensitive that way."

"On the upside," said Neville, approaching them with a weak smile, "Ron's out of danger."

"Oh, thank God." Hermione sank to the floor, looking very white. Neville sighed and flagged a passing nurse.

"Admit this lady for rest and observation," he said. "Obstetrics. Who's your doctor? Heron?" Hermione nodded. "Let him know she's here. I'll be along to see her in a few hours." He yawned, blinking. "How about you, Harry? Want a bed?"

"No. Thanks. I should get back to Headquarters. Enid's shorthanded. She'll, um, be needing some help."

"You should sleep."

"Later."

Harry turned away before Neville could argue, and Disapparated. He narrowly avoided Splinching himself in the process, and almost changed his mind when he arrived in the empty Coterie lounge. _Too late to back out now_ , he told himself grimly, and set off to find Enid. Lisa, nodding over a report in her office, told him that she was giving a report to the Minister; Harry went to wait in her office.

Enid didn't return for almost an hour, which gave Harry a chance to prepare his own report. Or at least, to load his quill with ink and scribble a couple of notes. He couldn't find words to explain the events of the night before. He remembered the stab of fear as he saw Ron's body, and the frission of magic running through his body as he attacked Borgin in the Forest. The taste of Lilith's mouth against his. There was no way he could share this with the Ministry. Impossible. Unthinkable.

Enid's quiet cough interrupted his reverie. 

"Are you quite all right there?" she asked.

"Just thinking."

"I didn't expect to see you here today."

He shrugged. "Where else would I go?"

"How are Ron and Dennis?"

"Out of danger. Stable."

Enid sighed with relief. "Good. I lost enough friends last night."

"Have you slept?"

"No." She massaged her temples. "I only got here a couple of hours ago. Then I had to inform the Minister of the present situation. The Coterie � what remains of the Coterie � is stood down pending investigation."

"That's understandable."

"Oh yes. But on top of everything else, I've been ordered to delay notifying Michael and Marion's families of their deaths."

"Marion too?"

"Who else would do it? I have to take responsibility for _something_."

"What can I do to help?"

She smiled bleakly. "Single-handedly persuade the Minister that First Coterie are competent and trustworthy?"

"Except for those of us who aren't." An idea struck him. "Do you want me to take the fall? They've given me credit for everything we ever accomplished. Might be able to make the opposite happen."

"That's rather masochistic."

"I'm resigning anyway. In disgrace, with honours, it doesn't make much difference. They'd probably make it easy for me, you know."

"Yes. I suppose they would. Figureheads and scapegoats. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"I used to think there were compensations."

"And now?"

Harry shrugged. "I just want to rest."

Enid regarded him with cool, penetrating eyes.

"Go home, Harry," she said at last. "You can't do anything right now."

Harry lacked the energy to argue, but he couldn't bring himself to return to his flat. Nor did he want to wander the corridors, filled with colleagues who wouldn't meet his gaze. He drifted into the kitchenette and made himself a cup of tea, drinking it slowly to delay the inevitable. Then he made another cup, which he silently deposited on Enid's desk. She acknowledged this with a weak smile.

He unlocked his office with a vague idea of crashing there for a few hours. Looking at Ron's desk, he had a better idea. Undoing the security charms took but a few minutes; the spare house keys were concealed in a hidden chamber at the back of the second drawer. Harry Apparated to the house and let himself in. Hermione's breakfast dishes were soaking in the sink. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting odd lights on the ceiling as it reflected off the taps and the water-filled bowl.

Harry made his way to the sofa and fell asleep even before he took off his shoes.

***

Lilith didn't sleep. She took a seat at the Gryffindor table, the only one not disturbed or damaged in the fight, and resolutely resisted all attempts to be moved. It was ironic, she decided, that the Great Hall of Hogwarts was presently considered an unsuitable place for a teenager. She kept her seat and watched the movement around her.

She was acutely aware of the cautious looks cast in her direction as Ministry personnel cleared up the mess and collected their evidence. Her father appeared to be the only person who didn't regard her with some small measure of fear. He simply ignored her.

Lilith decided she liked it that way.

She was still trying to decide what her next course of action should be. She had a strong urge to steal a broomstick and escape, to leave England and never come back.

Impossible. Her father would track her down, and then she would lose all chance of freedom.

There was, of course, a permanent solution to that problem.

And once her father was removed, what would prevent her from taking the same action against Granger, Zabini and the rest of the witnesses? It would be so easy�

Lilith tasted bile at the back of her throat. She forced herself to take a deep breath, squeezing the edge of her chair until her knuckles turned white. The pain in her fingers was a welcome distraction. Her wand lay on the table before her. It would be so easy to snap it in half, but she was almost afraid to touch it.

She had performed no magic since Lux was imprisoned.

She was beginning to doubt she would ever perform magic again.

A hand closed around her shoulder. It was not a gentle touch, but Lilith found it strangely comforting. 

"If you give up now," her father said, "the consequences will only be worse in the future."

"Is that the voice of experience?"

"Long, bitter experience."

Lilith looked down at her hands. "What if I'm not strong enough?" she whispered.

"I won't let you fail."

Lilith looked up at him. "Do you promise?" 

Her father's eyes were clear and unhappy. "I promise," he said. 

***

Ron was sitting up when Harry arrived at St. Mungo's, but fresh pain lines added years to his face.

"What's the word?" he asked. "Hermione won't tell me anything."

"Half of it's still classified," Harry said, taking a seat. "The Ministry's being turned upside down and inside out, and Hermione's running the whole operation. In a highly secretive and mysterious way, of course."

"She wouldn't settle for anything less." Ron became serious. "What's happening at the College? The nurses are trying to keep the _Prophet_ away, and that's never a good sign."

"Um. Well." Harry dug in his backpack and pulled that morning's _Daily Prophet_ out. "Here."

Ron unfolded it, said, "Nice photo. You'll never win Most Charming Smile, but�" He frowned as he read the accompanying article. "This isn't right," he said.

"Isn't it?"

Ron read the article again.

"Harry, you idiot, you didn't have to-"

"What alternative was there? Let Enid take the fall? You?"

Ron threw the paper away. Harry caught a glimpse of his black-and-white face flinching as it smacked against the wall.

"If you resign, and everyone thinks it was _your_ incompetence-"

"Who else's? Michael and Marion are dead, you and Dennis are in hospital-"

"This isn't worth your career, Harry."

"My career's not worth anything. I don't particularly mind. I think � looking at the collateral damage�" For a moment, he pictured Lilith's face, but it was gone in a blink. That was a dangerous line of thought� "I'm actually pretty happy about it. I mean, I could do without the hate mail, but I feel � free."

"Heady rush of unemployment?" Ron gave him a penetrating look. "What do you plan to do with yourself, now you're a man of leisure?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't want to think of the empty days before him, in his stagnant flat with all its memories�

"I'll think of something," he said.

Ron nodded.

"So," he said carefully, "have you heard from Snape? Or Lilith?"

"Nothing." He had spent several hours staring at a blank parchment, trying to compose some suitable form of farewell to Lilith. The right words never appeared. Hermione suggested _I'm sorry_ , but he wasn't sure he could apologise for everything that had happened between them, and he wasn't sure Lilith would accept it.

Ron gave him a serious look.

"Ugly as it was," he said, "I think we did the right thing."

"Leaving a teenage girl to cope with having an incarnation of Voldemort within her?" Harry shook his head. "I keep thinking that Snape had the right idea when he cast the first Memory Charms. If Borgin had only left well alone � if the Dark Order had never found out�"

"No point in thinking like that. Since Borgin _did_ interfere, and the Order _did_ find out, I reckon she's best off being able to defend herself. She knows what she's fighting against. Better than anyone else could, except you. Or Snape."

"It's not fair," Harry said quietly.

"Well, no."

"I just wish I could help her." Harry leaned back and scowled. "Thistlewight's working on an antidote to Borgin's potion."

"Good. Things will look a lot better after that."

"Yeah. Much better."

***

Three weeks later, a month after the events at Hogwarts, Harry received an owl from Snape.

The next day, he went to Hogwarts.

He found Lilith by the shore, water lapping at the hem of her dress. Arabella Figg was seated on a nearby rock. She gave Harry a cool look, but said nothing as he approached.

Harry stopped a few feet away from the water and said, "Lilith?"

Without looking at him she said, "Does my father know you're here?" 

"Yes." Harry didn't have to turn around to know that Snape was watching them from the hill above.

"I'm curious," Lilith said, "are you here as a reward or a bribe?"

"A test, I think." 

Lilith turned, and Harry saw with a pang that her eyes were shadowed and her face was strained.

"Well," she said, "you're here. And I haven't murdered you. Is that a pass or a fail, do you think?"

"Well, it's pretty good from my point of view." Harry studied her, trying to penetrate her mask. "How are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm all right. Provided that I don't sleep, anyway. But I keep finding odd pockets of information in my mind. Too many memories." She smiled slightly. "I've begun to keep a diary again."

"Is that helping?"

"Somewhat." Lilith moved towards him, her eyes fixed on his. "You are very complicated, you know."

"I try not to be," said Harry apologetically.

"Voldemort hated you so much � hated and feared you. I don't. That gives me hope."

"You're very strong. I can't even imagine what you must be going through."

"I feel like I've spent the summer in a waking nightmare." She paused, and she had to struggle for her next words: "I've missed you."

"Me too," said Harry. "I think � I'm beginning to think Thistlewight's potion wasn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Or perhaps," said Lilith, moving towards him, "Aunt Arabella is right, and there are more intangible magics at work here."

"That's - a terrifying possibility."

"I know. The Dark Lord never understood that magic."

"But it destroyed him," Harry breathed.

"Yes."

He wanted to lose himself in Lilith's enormous eyes, to bring his mouth to hers and let her forget about everything for a moment. A long moment.

Impossible. Destructive. Dangerous. 

Tantalising.

Harry kept his hands by his sides. Snape and Figg were nearby. And Lilith, with her cracked façade, had more important things to think about.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I thought I might disappear into the Muggle world for a few years. I can be safely anonymous there. Less likely to come to the attention of the Dark Order."

"I wish I could go with you," Lilith whispered.

Harry couldn't answer. The words were too painful.

"One day," he said carefully, "you'll look back and this will be behind you. This won't define you forever."

"I can't imagine that."

"One day. I promise."

Lilith looked past him. "My father is coming."

"I guess we've spoken enough. For one day." Although he couldn't imagine getting a repeat invitation.

"My father says I should take everything one day at a time."

"I agree. But please don't tell anyone I said that."

Lilith did not smile, but he saw a flicker of amusement in her mouth as she moved to join her father.

Harry watched as Snape offered his arm to Arabella and said something inaudible to Lilith. He did not acknowledge Harry's presence. The little family made their way up the hill without another word to Harry.

As she crested the hill, Lilith looked back, meeting his eyes with a serious, haunted gaze.

Then her father called her, and she walked away, out of Harry's sight.

***

Draco Malfoy sat in his office, alone. The sun was setting, but he couldn't be bothered lighting the lamps. The shadows rendered the familiar room alien and faintly sinister. It reminded him of Azkaban, and the brief weeks he'd spent there. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Eugenia's rantings. She had betrayed them all in her madness. Everyone.

The _Evening Prophet_ would arrive soon, bearing the news of Tenebreas Lux's suicide. It was a shame to have to let the old man go like that, but sooner or later, the Aurors would have recognised and reversed the Imperius Charm that kept him from sharing the names of his collaborators. And then Lux would have destroyed them all.

Draco wondered if it was worth it. It had seemed so simple in the beginning: a chance to destroy Potter, and Snape, and Eugenia. And the girl. And then he would have another Voldemort in his hands, to shape and mould as he desired. Fitting payment for all the years the Dark Lord had held the Malfoys in thrall.

His family.

He would never have entered this if he'd known he'd be a father by the end. The risks were too great. Draco was willing to sacrifice his wealth and status, but his wife and child were sacred. Untouchable.

Perhaps, he thought, if this Ministry scandal didn't die quickly, he should send Gabrielle to France. Her family would protect her. And the child. 

Draco watched the shadows lengthen, and made his plans.

 

_end_

 

 

 

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